The next time you better have a good reason," I tease him. "Okay." He kisses me again. "Reason?" I ask softly. "Um. You're really pretty?" "That's a good one. I don't know if it's true, but it's good.

You are the nest. You are the hatchling. You are the chrysalis. You are the progeny. You are the rot that falls from stars. You may not understand what I mean. You will.

After another half second, he's locked me in a bear hug, crushing me into his chest and lifting my feet a couple inches off the ground as I kick furiously with my heels, twisting my head back and forth, snapping at his forearm with my teeth. And the whole time his lips tickling the delicate skin of my ear. "Cassie. Don't. Cassie..." "Let...me...go." "That's been the whole problem. I can't.

But monsters, I now know, come in all shapes and sizes, and only their appetite for human flesh defines them.

To hell with monsters and to hell with men. There is no difference to me.

I don't care what the stars say about how small we are. One, even the smallest, weakest, most insignificant one, matters.

Sometimes in my tent, late at night, I think I can hear the stars scraping against the sky.