Maude’s armor was intricate—swirls that resembled billowing boughs engraved in the breastplate. “It was my mother’s,” she said. “And hers before.” A lump formed in my throat. “You realize if I die you’ll likely lose it.” “Thought about that. Figured out a solution.” Maude hauled me off the bed. Surprised me with a fearsome hug. “Live.”
