It takes Famine a laughably short amount of time to close in on me. He catches me around the waist and the two of us go tumbling into the dirt. I cough, the heavy press of the Reaper at my back making it hard to breathe. After a moment, he flips me over. “You foolish little flower, don’t you know?” he scolds me. “I kill everything. If you leave my side, you will die.” I push uselessly at his shoulders. “Then let me die, damn you!” “No.” Famine looks at me, gobsmacked; his response seems to shock him more than it does me. He searches my face, like it holds some answers. Gentler, he says, “You
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