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The forest did not scare her; rather, she wanted to be like it: ageless and impervious, cruel and beautiful. Death could not touch
She was a half-wild creature that loved a graveyard, the first taste of misty night air, and the heft of a shovel. She knew how things died. And in her darkest moments, she feared she did not know how to live.
“Yes,” she answered. “I grew up thinking monsters could be slain.” “Ah,” he said. “And I grew up thinking people were the monsters.”
Ryn thought that if she could love the monsters—then she could love those monstrous parts of herself.
