“It’s—it’s a catchall, ma’am. Anything wet. I mean a wet brain, anything with a body that still generates fluid. The eaters.” She felt the need to add: “Some of them don’t eat, of course. Or they eat for strange reasons. But they’re our big predators. Throat-biters, skull-crackers . . .” She hesitated, unsure how much of what she knew was smart to talk about. “Skin-wearers. Just—ghouls.”
