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Drunken people make me nervous. I dislike their predictable unpredictability—the emotions that are so intense and seem to turn on a dime.
They always claim to be my friend right before they leave me in the deepest pit of hell.
“You cannot thrive under the wrong stars, Kricket,” Trey says in a calm, soothing voice. “The stars here are in opposition to you . . . can’t you feel it? You are foreign to them. You have no ancestry here—no lineage. Let us take you home.”
“Everyone wants something, Trey. Some are up front about it, and some, well . . . some just lie,”
Human greed is legendary. Their need to consume and to waste and to destroy their environment is prevalent to me in the very air I had to breathe while I was there among them,”
“It’s kind of sad to think that some people would want to tame something that is meant to be wild. Maybe there ought to be a law against it.”
It will be his name savored on my lips, stretched across my heart, worshipped by my body, and branded in my mind until death do us part and forever after that.”
For some stupid reason, I let him into my world of one, but I’m better off alone . . . I’m always better off alone.
“Yes. The Brotherhood believes that you are the one spoken of in the prophecy—the priestess born of two houses that will bring about the demise of one, leaving one house to rule Ethar,”
“When the crickets are singing, their music drowns out all the other noises in the night sky. You can have faith that the enemy isn’t moving because they’ll warn you,” Trey replies. “It’s when the crickets stop singing that you know the enemy is near and the battle is about to begin.”
