Sasha twirled her wine glass between her fingers and stared out at the waves. The sun was nearly set and the sky was cloudy. The only lights left would be from the beach houses along the strand.

“Do you ever think about what's next, Bobby?” she asked.

I love to look at the trees. Even when they're burning.

Today should be a day of joy, I told myself. Yet all I felt was a sense of nervous anticipation, of self-consciousness. The ceremony had been planned for months. Nothing could go wrong. So why did I worry?

Isaac was twelve and walking through the park the first time he saw the Game and its Player.

Seriously, Neddy? She just does not know when to quit.

I went out as Bob last night. It has been a while. I think he only came out for his birthday last year.

It is perhaps true that it takes inspiration to turn fear into action. An idea, a word, or – in this case – an event.

Fear is such a damn useless emotion. What does it do for you? You cringe in a corner, heart racing, limbs weakened. Every part of your body and mind telling you to escape. But when escape is impossible? When it is the very country, the very world that you live in that threatens? Then it is worse than useless.

“It really is a flying brick,” Hesta said. She smirked while she said it.

“Pretty much,” Dionus said. “Whoever did the design for these people should be shot. But, looks aren't everything.”

“I know,” Hesta said. “I married you, didn't I?”

“It's a flying brick,” Dionus said. He crossed his arms across his chest and scowled at the monstrosity of aesthetic design.

“I wouldn't call it that,” the salesman said. “It's compact. Efficient. It's designed for vacuum travel, so aerodynamics aren't an issue. And you should see the interior layout –”

“It's a flying brick,” Dionus repeated.

A few crows had been too adventurous, lying dead around the dragon's corpse. Some bled out on cuts from its razor-edged scales. Some were scorched, having dug too deeply. The heart of a dragon burns for a long time, I later learned. The older, the longer. This one could well have been burning for a week.

“Did you hear something?” Jain signed, keeping our pact of silence. We both froze. We had been hours in these woods with no sounds but our own breaths and our muffled footsteps. I heard nothing.

“One hundred and eleven,” the dark man said. He said the words with relish, as if complimenting a delicious meal. “I must say, you do seem to be better at this than most.”

“Seventy-five,” the dark man said, his voice a smooth whisper. “We can stop any time you like, you know.” He lifted the bloodied knife from my arm. As with every previous cut, he wiped the blade clean with a black cloth.

I collapsed to the bed, toweling off my hair from the second shower of the evening. This one had been much better than the first, which consisted largely of scrubbing ourselves raw. Otherworldly goop managed to get just about everywhere. And yes, our clothes had wound up in the incinerator at the end.

“Well that was fun,” Harry said.

“You,” I replied. “Have a very twisted concept of the word ‘fun’.” I hefted the last flailing tentacle into the incinerator.

“Time to rest, love,” She said. “You've been at this a long time.”

“Just a little longer?” I pleaded. “I feel like I'm just getting the hang of this.”

When Vanessa walked into the office with her lanyard wrapped around her hand, Blanche didn't need to ask why she was there. She did anyway.