Someone wanted Sparrow. Someone else wanted 'her'. Old people sitting in high places, sending killers down like stones kicked from a wall.
And the books. Always those damn books.
Old pages, old words about humans in beastmen lands, about poison that walked upright. Veer had mentioned them once and then dodged the subject like it burned. If there was an answer to why her blood melted people from the inside, it was probably inked in one of those. Far from here. In the hands of people who already thought she was a problem.
Her skull felt too full. Bullets. Sparrows. Elders. Books. Poison. Wings. Claws. It all spun together until it was just one heavy, buzzing knot.
She blew out a slow breath through her nose and dropped her gaze.
