“They’re getting heavy, aren’t they?” he remarked, watching her. “With all the death you’ve seen, you’ve never guessed at the weight death has when it first creeps in. And that is your first lesson, child. Death is not something you see. Or smell. Or hear. Death is personal, intimate. Death knows you from the inside out. Feel, then, your lungs growing denser with every breath you cannot take. Your heart, heavy as it races and heavier still as it begins to slow. Soon, it will stop.”
