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The storm may still clear, and the temperature may rise within a day or two. But we cannot rely on it. Lives are lost when people take good fortune for granted.”
She couldn’t see Dorran. But she could hear a scratching noise. It came from above her and below her all at once, like fingernails on stone or dying breaths dragged through rotting lungs.
The figure turned towards her. Eyes glinted—horrible, inhuman eyes peering out from behind long, greasy hair. Then the figure darted away, escaping from her circle of light, disappearing into a narrow doorway in the stone wall.
She felt like she was unravelling. Her mind was fracturing, the pieces floating away, and as fast as she tried to grasp them and pull them back in, more were lost.
“Sometimes it is hard to know what is right, what is normal. When you spend your whole life trapped inside a family with an unhealthy view of the world, what is bizarre becomes your every day. What should be abhorrent becomes your reality.”
acclimatised
“I have never cared about anything as much as this,” Dorran finally whispered. Clare frowned lightly. “What do you mean?” Survival? Defending the house? Is he talking about the garden or— His eyes met hers for a brief second then glanced away again. “You.”
And he was kind, not in the way that expected anything in return and not that he was even trying to be kind. He just was. She hadn’t been able to see it at first. He had hidden it away behind formality and cool impassiveness, like a shield, guarding the parts of himself that could be hurt.
dais,
