Thirteen
I barely hear my scream as I plummet toward my death. Foamy water and jagged rocks rise rapidly to meet me. Faster, faster, faster—
Then my body decelerates abruptly and a dark shadow swoops below me as I come almost, almost, almost to a halt. Then I’m tumbling out of the air and into a pair of strong arms, and someone’s saying, “Don’t worry, I’ve got you.” I land clumsily on the back of a creature with wings and find myself sandwiched between it and whoever it was that caught me. An arm wraps around my stomach. I squeeze my eyes shut and cling more tightly to that arm than anything I’ve ever held onto. I don’t care who or what it is. I don’t care if it’s an Unseelie faerie or a guardian who wants to lock me up or some kind of new being I’ve never met. My brain cares about only
