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Then I hear a es towardit With her free hand, she throws precious survival gear overboard, splashing it into the icy water Cans of soup and beans, life vests and blankets, even shoes and blister packs go over the side of the boat, sinking a ice

"You really should eat your eggs, dear," says ht forup If I don’t get out of the way, she’ll run e calls out for " I call out but only a croaked whisper comes out of my mouth I try to swim toward her but my muscles are so cold that all I can do is flail Flail and shiver in the path ofvoice whispers inpulled out froainst my back Then warmth envelopes me Firm muscles eroggily aware ofthemselves around me, their skin soft as a feather, theiraway the ice in htmare

"Shhh" A husky whisper in my ear

I relax into the cocoon of warmth and let the sound of the rain on the roof lull one, but I’ to savor the heat left in the cushions by a body that is no longer there

When I open htaard and unkempt Great The world has cos, crazier than ever, els, and I'reasy andaside rab my toiletries and head for one of the two bathroo to you too," he says in a lazy drawl I have my hand on the bathroo, the answer is yes"

I pause, afraid to look back "Yes?" Yes, it was hiht? Yes, he knows I liked it?

"Yes, you can corets it "I’ll take you to the aerie"

CHAPTER 11

The water is still running in the cottage but there is no hot water I consider taking a shower anyway, not knowing how long it will be before I can take a proper one, but the thought of glacier te me full force h sponge bath with a washcloth At least that way, I can keep various parts ofall at once

As predicted, the water is ice-cold, and it brings back pieces of ot warh to be cradled to sleep It was probably just so, the way penguins huddle together when it’s cold What else could it be?

But I don't want to think about that--I don't kno to think about that--so I shove it down into that dark, overstuffed place into burst any moment now

When I come out of the bathroom, Raffe looks freshly showered and dressed in his black pants with boots His bandages are gone His wet hair swings in front of his eyes as he kneels on the hardwood floor in front of the open blanket On it, his wings are laid out

He co out the ones that are crushed and plucking out the broken ones In a way, I suppose he's preening His touch is gentle and reverent, although his expression is hard and unreadable as stone The jagged ends of the wing that I chopped look ugly and abused

I have the absurd iize What, exactly, am I sorry for? That his people have attacked our world and destroyed it? That they are so brutal as to cut off the wings of one of their own and leave hies, it is only because they haveone of the ene to be sorry about

But soh I am sorry, even if I won't say it

I walk around hietic stance, and his naked back co The rest of hi or cuts, except where his wings used to be

The wounds are a couple of streaks of raw haed flesh where the knife sawed through the tendons and muscles I don't like to think about it, but I suppose the other angel sawed through joints, severing bones away from the rest of him I suppose I should have sewn the wounds shut, but I had assumed he'd die

"Should I, like, try to sew your wounds shut?" I ask, hoping the ansill be no I'ether pushes the limits of my comfort zone, to say the least

"No," he says without looking up from his work "It'll eventually heal on its own"

"Why hasn’t it healed already? I el sounds take a long tiel, slice hi Why would you tell me that?"

"Maybe I’m not afraid of you"

"Maybe you should be"

"My sould never hurt ently plucks out another broken feather and lays it on the blanket

"How’s that?"

"You need perh a ton if you try to lift it without perave et peret it fro"