I feel a thread tugging me again, but this time I know that it isn’t some sinister force dragging me toward death. This time I know it’s my mother's hand, drawing me into her arms. And I go gladly into her embrace.

What good is a prepared body if you have a scattered mind?

I feel the urge, familiar now, to wrench myself from my body and speak directly into her mind. It is the same urge, I realize, that makes me want to kiss her every time I see her, because even a sliver of distance between us is infuriating. Our fingers, loosely woven a moment ago, now clutch together, her palm tacky with moisture, mine rough in places where I have grabbed too many handles on too many moving trains. Now she looks pale and small, but her eyes make me think of wide-open skies that I have never actually seen, only dreamed of.

That is how it feels. Like everything between us is twisted together, friendship and love and family, so I cant tell the difference between any of them.

Dauntless: being brave in the midst of fear.

Everyone has to blame something for the way the world is.

Leaving us with Eric is like hiring a babysitter who spends his time sharpening knives.