“His wings are on fire. He stands against a burning wall. The harder he moves his arms, trying to get free of the leather straps, the faster the flames shudder along the white feathers. The boy doesn’t see her until she’s right beside him. It seems as if she has poured out of the smoke, her grey cloak flapping around her like waves on the sea. For a moment they stare at each other. He sees the flicker of fear in her young face, but that is something he thinks later—young face—much later, when he... is a man. Now he thinks only, Save me, his throat seared shut. He cannot push the dry burst of words through his parched lips. It doesn’t matter. She has grabbed him under the arms, holds him away from her body. Put your arms out, she says. He stretches his burning wings so that they stay clear of her clothes and she runs with him like this, down the hallway to Isabelle’s bedroom. There is smoke in the room but the window is open. She stands him by the door, rushes to the bed, and drags the mattress off.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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