“Look who else is here. Chainsaw. Look who else is here: Kerah.” At that word—Kerah—the bird returned in an instant, diving from the darkness. Adam’s voice was soft; he pointed. “Look.” Chainsaw’s neck feathers ruffled into a cartoonish collar. With a rippling purr, she careened into Ronan’s unmoving chest. How he longed to hold her. He couldn’t feel any physical sensations now, but he could remember them. The cool, dry texture of her feathers. The weight of her on his shoulder.
