Ignoring the sounds of splitting ice ratcheting through me, I ease up onto my tiptoes, peering over the cleft of her wing to the small hollow it’s shielding. Not sharp and jagged like bits are still missing, but a smoothed ingress close to the tip of the beast’s wide nose, as though Slátra gave her final breath cradling . . . something bundled within the silken tendrils of her once soft tail. Shielded by her cupped claw. My brow furrows, stare pouring into that snug hollow, almost feeling its clefts and bulges nudged against my body. Cradling me.
