LUCIFER AND KISSERA were back in the Netherworld trekking through a field of lethal grass. She's certainly got the hang of this place. Kissera mimicked his every footstep, careful as he in avoiding the razor-tipped dark brown patches in the brownish orange terrain. Those comfortable in the Netherworld could read the faint signs of which bits were safe and which ones would spring a tangled web of pain around your foot if disturbed. Because Hell had an ecosystem like everywhere else, under the lethal razors, creatures thrived on anything that became entangled in the spikes. One false step and Kissera would be lunch. She followed close, yet not so close that she touched his wings. He didn't know how to feel about that and he always knew how to feel, how to think about anything. Everything. It
