“Where are your shadows?” Malyr laughed, the blood gurgling that accompanied the sound lending it a generous tone of impeding hysteria. He wiped the back of his hand over his mouth before he spat a blob of pink-tainted saliva through the wires of the cage. It landed in the straw, speckling the white feathers of Galantia’s bird. And there, right beside her, sat Malyr’s anoa… … preening her damaged feathers.
