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12 pages
First published May 20, 2009

Warrick closed his eyes, imagining Toreth’s body, powdery with dried salt. Blond hair bleached a shade lighter by the sun. Blue eyes squinting against the dazzle from the sea, softening the hardness of his face. Tanning skin, with perhaps a touch of sunburn along his shoulders— just a little something to stroke soothing lotion over. He smiled at the picture…
She was in beautiful condition, coat glossy, muscles flowing under her skin as she moved and turned, moved and turned. That only made it worse, that such a healthy specimen could be so sick. [But] Unlike many of the other cages, there was no sense of being watched back. It was possible to map many things onto the flat, yellow eyes—restlessness, rage, boredom, despair, madness, a desperate determination never to surrender to stillness and death—but nothing that touched the viewer, nothing that connected to anything outside the animal’s own mind.
“…if you went in there with it…” His hands slid up, circling Warrick’s neck loosely. “It’d tear your fucking throat out…That’d teach you not to feel sorry for things that don’t fucking need it.”