“Katherine,” I continue, “if it had been you I’d seen that day instead of Miss Duncan—dress torn, neck open, eyes dead—I wouldn’t be here right now. I never would’ve left Nicodemus. I would’ve just laid down in the middle of that snowstorm and waited to die. So, no, I didn’t think about you. Because that’s how I survived.” “That’s good, Jane,” Katherine says, her voice heavy with emotion. “But it was not me, and I am here. No matter what else has come before, I am alive and I am here. With you.”
