The Wilds aren't safe anymore.
The tunnels may be long, and twisted, and dark; but you are supposed to go through them.
No one had ever told her this basic fact: not everyone got to be loved.
She liked that word: we. It sounded warm and open, like a hug.
I still wanted to know why. As though somebody was going to answer that for me, as though any answer would be satisfying.
How can someone have the power to shatter you to dust--and also to make you feel so whole?