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Rowan chews his lip. Nods. And that was when she saw Gilliad. Theyll heal, she says, quietly. Eventually, everything does. It hurts for a while but if it doesnt kill you, it persuades you to come back stronger. I know I said I wouldnt ask, but what are you going to do to the man who did it? Youre angry because you know Im telling the truth, right? The pain came from everywhere at once. Lightning arched through his body, sending him to his knees. He fought to keep his screams inside. He wouldnt show weakness. Couldnt give them the satisfaction. He ground his teeth together and blood filled his mouth. All right, Sam? It was a shock to realise how pathetic he really was, when you got down to it. Through the disarray of her thoughts, she becomes aware of the sound of footsteps. She can make out the sound of small, running feet– a haphazard scuttling noise, as if the clearing has suddenly come alive with children. She realises she is on her belly, on the ground, and that the small cop who came looking for is trying to stuff her guts back in; blinking and pale, telling her it will be okay, that help is coming – that theyll get him for this. They had spent weeks working along to the local radio piping out of the old stereo in the corner of the studio. Now Miss Jones had opted for something a little more cultured for the visiting parents, college staff, and local dignitaries. Classical music played softly in the background of the exhibition hall, accompanying the quiet mutterings of those perusing this years offerings. Rows of perfectly arranged seats faced the stage at the front of the hall. Behind, partitions displayed weeks of hard work by the graduating art class. Awkwardly, Rowan slides the glossy pages forward. Sees his name, third in the pecking order behind the crime reporter and one of the senior hacks. Rowan was still a trainee, but hed earned the acknowledgment. And that was when she saw Gilliad. Survive, Shan echoed, dubiously. Survive unchanged? Shell listens out for the tell-tale signs of life coming from Sixpences clearing. He has no doubt hell be awake. He sleeps outside most nights and generally wakes with the sunrise. He invariably gives the inside of the campervan to his guests. Hes had no shortage of people staying with him during the years he’s been Shell’s friend. Some are not dissimilar to Sixpence in appearance; ragged troubadours in tie-dye and Doc Martens, following old lay lines and footpaths on their personal pilgrimages to wherever the spirits have told them to go. But others have surprised Shell. Well-to-do ladies, barefoot in skimpy white dresses. Handsome, well-dressed men squatting by the fireside with tears in their eyes and a joint between their lips. Children too. Wild-eyed, half-feral creatures, squatting on the steps to the camper; meditating, cross-legged, giving their face to the first rays of the sun or helping stretch soft leather over a circular frame tomake the drums which beat out the rhythms of a world Shell does not claim to understand. Im sorry, I know that must make me sound like some demented housewife, she says, huffily. Her fringe flops down a little. Im not trying to get in your pants. She frowned and looked down, her gaze drawing their attention too. She turned to Shan and he saw what his brother meant. The material covering her left shoulder and upper breast had been burned away. Her pale flesh showed through the ragged gap, her skin marked as if with black ink, the image of an owl in harsh, jagged lines that spread across her shoulder and curved around the swell of her breast. Like the daubs the Fellna called art, like the tattoos with which they covered themselves..