“Oh… Oh, saints…” “You did it,” Faron said triumphantly, turning to Signey. “You—shit.” Signey had collapsed in the mud, her limbs arranged haphazardly. Faron scrambled over to her, feeling for a pulse. Signey’s skin was ice cold. Her eyes were open and unseeing. “No,” she whispered, grabbing Signey’s wrist to check again. “No, no, no, no.”
