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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