“Silas shivered, despite his bandages, as Sophie layered another of Tom’s blankets over his cot. He opened one of his eyes. She bent her ear to hear his words, to hold them in her memory. If he was going to die she was determined to honor him. She had failed Peter, she had tried to do this in her love for Tom, but her one-sided sendings to those dead men had been matters of solitude. This man, here, she could watch the beauty wreath itself and all the life go out of him. She could speak, re...assure, and she could be there. Silas was the first survivor, perhaps the only, she could ever usher to his peace. As she bent to hear his whisper, she waited. When it came, it was soft and urgent and it was this: “Damn, I’m hungry.” She lifted her head back away from him. Surprise and a born affection wrinkled their way up her brow. She smiled, she cupped her hands over her mouth and almost laughed. Silas’s other eye opened, just a sliver of burnished gold reflecting light. But this time, he tried and failed to prop himself up on his elbows.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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