Why be the sheep when you can be the wolf?

... while I am Death's daughter and walk in His dark shadow, surely the darkness can give way to light sometimes.

... then he offers me his arm. As I take it, I wonder what folly decreed that women cannot walk unassisted.

You are not my nursemaid. Remember, I am rescuing you.

It is a good thing I no longer have a heart, because if I did, it would surely break.

I bear a deep red stain that runs from my left shoulder down to my right hip, a trail left by the herbwitch's poison that my mother used to try to expel me from her womb.

When he laces his fingers through mine, my heart does its now familiar panicked flight, bumping painfully against my ribs. My shoulder twitches as if to pull my hand back, but my heart overrules it.