‘Kettricken said that you might not truly be ill. That it might be … peculiar to your kind.’ I was uncomfortable coming even that close to a question regarding this. ‘It could be. I suppose. Look.’ He drew off his mitten, then reached up and dragged his nails down his cheek. Dry white trails followed them. He rubbed at it and the skin powdered away beneath his hands. On the back of his hand, the skin was peeling as if it had been blistered. ‘It’s like a sunburn peeling away. Do you think it’s the weather you’ve been in?’ ‘That, too, is possible. Save that if it is like last time, I shall itch
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