“Hmm?” MeLaan asked, pulling her arm out, the flesh forming back over her crystalline bones. “Oh. I caught a hole in the intestines, as you’d guessed. Sewed that up tight, using some catgut I made from some spare intestines I had brewing. I patched it with some of my flesh, grafted on.” “She’ll reject the flesh.” “Nah. I took a bite and replicated her skin. Her body will think it’s hers.” “You ate part of me?” Marasi said. “Wow,” Waxillium said. “That’s . . . wow.”
