BOOK TWO: WHAT GIFTS SHE CARRIED

A muddy pinwheel spun into a watery grave, vanishing through the drain, a swirling, bitter reminder of my escape from death. But like it did with everyone, death would eventually catch up with me.

Just not anytime soon, I hoped.

I closed my eyes under the cascade of heat and shuddered, but I couldn't get away from the mud. It splattered down on top of me, crushing me, burying me alive. I snapped my eyes open and sucked in water ...