Like the log stockades of Sredna, it would hold a ceratopsid until she decided to leave.

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Frowning at the hole left in Trukos's chest by the Goldbrook man’s knife, Mayya said, “Come with me.”

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Today it’s the moon that has him thinking of long ago, but lately anything might do it.

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Again and again I died. Better to cut my thread short and start again than waste lifetimes on a path that would not lead me to my goal.

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“I paint by the inner light,” I said. I tried to make it sound like I was being facetious.

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Something hardened in my world, the way it did every time my father told me that being a man meant being brave.

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The morning of her last day as queen, Nehan's mouth begins to bleed before her attendants finish braiding her hair.

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The fawn is still in its mother's belly. Sapo kneels by the doe and feels for the outlines of the little one with her fingers. A gasp escapes her when it moves under the dead doe's skin.

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“You most cover it up,” Aksá says, startling me. They hand me long strips of torn fabric. “Let no one know.”

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