CHAPTER
ONE
The fire breathed, the dying embers flaring and cooling in a hot pulse. I watched the cold black creep over the orange. The fire were going out. The cold never worried me overmuch. We slept in the warming room of the monastery, and with plenty of blankets and a well-tended fire, a body never got too cold. I could see Much’s head curled over his knees, his body in a ball nearest to the fire. His arm that were missing a hand were tucked in tight, like he were trying to protect the thing that had been taken from him so long ago. John sprawled out farthest away from the fire, laid flat on his back like he’d fallen down drunk. None of the fights, the battles, the trials ever seemed to pierce through him and leave holes behind like they did the rest of us. A bare foot away, Rob lay nearest me. Always near, always far. He slept on his stomach now, and he never used to. It weren’t many months since the now-dead sheriff had tortured
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