Katelina's wound was healed the next morning. She marveled at it in the chipped bathroom mirror. The skin was smooth and perfect, as if it had never been cut. She wished she could say the same for the rest of her. The scars she'd had when Micah turned her were still there; the mark Jorick had made, the lumpy scar that had been his first mark, the mess where her shoulder had been ripped open and sewn shut, the claw marks across her back, the thick, rope like scar that ran from her ...