gged rasps that echoed in the cold, silent cave. The blood from her wo

rms crossed, his silhouette a dark promise

man landed with a thud, dropping a large bundle of dry branches and a heap of tin

ored th

ition. Her blood-soaked hands sifted through the pile, pullin

on and contempt. What could this woman, who was usually too la

e hard stick between her palms, and began to rub. The motion was frant

The first attempt produced only a wisp of p

g a still-dazed Angelo between them. Gilberto saw he

awing fresh blood, but she didn't feel it. Or if she did, she folded the pain into her effort. The second attempt failed, yielding only more useless smoke. She tried a third time, and a fourth, her vision swimming with dark, dizzying p

rked into life, falling i

oldering tinder, and blew. A gentle, steady stream of air. A tin

had gone off. They scrambled backward, pressing themselves again

d the original Genevieve, they knew

ils contracte

wigs to the fledgling fire, coaxing it, building it.

ot into the flames, but into the bed of burning wo

shatter her mind. "There are no sterile conditions here. The alkaline nature of the wood ash might temporarily inhibit some bacteria and cauterize the worst of the bl

smell of burnt flesh and scorched blood

locked, her whole frame convulsing as if struck by lightning. But her hands, her bloody,

scream. A low, guttural growl rumbled in her chest, the s

seen battle wounds, had treated torn flesh, but he had never seen anything lik

flickering firelight, her face pale and beaded with sweat, h

wly, deliberately, pulled her hands away. The wound was a mess

pent. She was drenched in a cold sweat, her clothes

asserted itself. A hollow, aching hunger. Her stomach let out a loud

a mixture of fear, disgust, and

with the back of a shaky hand. She turne

s a dry, cra

e said. "Get me

d at the horrific, self-inflicted wound on her belly. He looked at h

, a terrifying thought

e same. The bod

omething new. Something utte