“The God-Death of Halla,” by Tina Connolly
The man’s head swung wildly, his fingers grasping towards the straining netted bundle. The touch of the God on an unholy man was not pretty. Halla could sense it, crackling the air from the Mouth to the man. It was a compulsion that filled him with blood lust, blanketed his mind with one urge: kill the dove.
“Precious Meat,” by Catherine S. Perdue
I lifted my muzzle and sniffed. The wood was different today. Fine dust still hung in the air and sparkled in sunlit shafts. Such a thing this sparkling was. I gazed at it in wonder. Had the light ever been just so before? Was this a new thing?
“Kingspeaker,” by Marie Brennan, from Issue #3
I have not spoken with my own voice in nearly seven years. I knew this would be my fate long before it happened–but only now do I understand what it means.