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“…so what purpose is there to worry?” “It’s not as easy as that,” said Summer sadly. “I can’t stop myself from worrying.” “You’re human,” said Glorious. “Humans hoard up their fears as if the world might run out.” He huffed a laugh. “Still, you build cities with them—and towers and artworks and families and faiths. It seems to work for your people, even if it would not work for mine.” “I wish I was a wolf,” said Summer. “That is a very sensible wish,” said Glorious. “But even Baba Yaga cannot grant you that. So you will simply have to be a brave human.”

“Ah.' The godmother smiled then, and cracks ran across her skin from the motion, like a plaster wall falling apart. As Marra watched in horror, a chip of skin fell from her cheekbone. There was no blood under it, nothing but cool, brown bone. 'Yes, Agnes, will you pass me my teacup? It seems that I am about to die, and I would like a little more tea.' ... She tried to press it in to the godmother's hands, but they were only bone, folded politely in to a pile of dust. ... 'Thank you,' said the godmother against the rim of the teacup, and then she fell apart. Marra took a step back but there was something oddly peaceful about it, about bones sinking down in to the robes and the dust pattering down around them. There had been very little flesh left to the godmother, only skin and skeleton and iron will. Her robes stayed in the perfect triangle, stiff with gold brocade.”

“She could track the progression of starvation backwards through the layers. They had eaten deer and they had eaten cattle. When the cattle ran out and the deer were gone, they ate the horses, and when the horses were gone, they ate the dogs. When the dogs were gone, they ate each other. It was the dogs she wanted. Perhaps she might have built a man out of bones, but she had no great love of men any longer. Dogs, though... dogs were always true.”

“Health's not so little a thing, ' said the dust-wife. 'Compared to the alternative, anyway.' Marra's lip curled. 'She might have wished us safe,' she growled. 'Or at least that we wouldn't marry someone who'd murder us.' 'She might have,' said the dust-wife. 'But parents object to people making pronouncements like that at christenings, for some odd reason.”

“At sunset, just as the light from the fire became brighter than the light from the doorway, she finished. The skeleton lay across her lap, complete, claws wired to paws vertebrae strung like beads. 'Wake,' she whispered, while the light faded outside the door. 'Wake. Please.' The bones lay motionless in her lap. She bowed her head. Please. Please, Bonedog. I'm never going to see my sister again, or my mother. I'm not going to see the Sister Apothecary or the abbess. I need one more friend. Please. It was too much like the first time. The second impossible task was also the third. She had always known that she had gotten off too lightly, being handed the moon in a jar. Fenris took her free hand, careful of her sore fingertips, and held it between his palms, waiting with her. 'Please,' she said again, and a single tear ran hotly down her cheek and splashed on to the white expanse of skull. Bonedog yawned and stretched and woke. Marra let out a sob of relief and buried her head in Fenris's neck. He held her in the crook of his arm while Bonedog stood up and bounced and cavorted around the hut.”

“But you are like any other knight," she said bitterly. "You want to rescue the beautiful maiden in the tower." "Well, if she's there, I suppose it's only polite to rescue her. Though I'm embarassed to say that some of my fellow knghts woud probably only be interested if the maiden had a treasure to go along with her." "There's no treasure." "I didn't think there was. I mostly came for answers. Or maybe just the story.”

“Maybe you and I could... not go home together?' The words hung in the air between them, as fine as spun glass and just as fragile. Marra waited for him to say something, to catch the words or shatter them, whichever he chose. 'I think I'd like that,' said Fenris. Marra sagged with relief. She had been so focused on what he might say that she hadn't quite expected what he might do. So it came as a surprise when he wrapped both arms around her and put his lips against her hair. 'I think I would like that very much,' he murmured. 'Oh good,' said Marra, against his neck. And then she would have kissed him or he would have kissed her, but Bonedog decided that they were wrestling and jumped up and barked soundlessly at them both.”

“Marra thumped the pillow and then gave up. 'Fenris?' 'Yes?' 'I don't know how to ask this without giving you completely the wrong idea.' 'All right?' 'Do you remember on the road, when we slept back-to-back?' He did not answer, but she heard the bed creak, and then the indignant snuffle of Bonedog being nudged out of the way. Her own bed sagged as Fenris sat on the edge of it. Marra scooted up against the wall to give him room. His back was as solid and warm as she remembered. She sighed and felt something unclench, although whether it was in her jaw or her gut or her soul, she couldn't say. 'You're a saint,' she mumbled, tugging the blanket up around her shoulder. 'You have no idea,' muttered Fenris.”