Cinder

Dragons’ eyes see the truth and weakness that lie in the hearts of all men, but honestly, Cinder just does not get these people.

The thieves have their weird guitar-things out, and they’re clicking away – colours and sound fly, sharp like knives.  The horse-rat she ate sits like a stone in her stomach. The thieves keep yelling “THUN-DER!” every once in a while, and the leader sings, “I was caught / In the middle of a railroad track…”  Cass is a blur, her sword a dissonant note in the madness.

Somewhere, that bloody statue sits, wrapped in its oilcloth, radiating terribly.

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