I don’t want to choke to death in a village hotel with my lungs full of fluid and my body half-paralyzed. I don’t know how to work. I can’t find my way with a map. It’s easy to talk about getting away, leaving, dying, changing, when leaving it all behind means nothing. But to feel the power in my whole body, to claw and mark people, to have a role as the companion of the god of night—it means something. It’s mine. I’m yours too, I told him in a low voice. You’re mine too, he replied.
