She would flee to the wild fastnesses, the places where there were no overarching systems of any use, where she could blend with the unstable populace and kill in relative peace. “Have to take your turn,” he remarked laconically. A few seasons went by where he initiated her into the disgusting rituals of killing and eating human beings, a dark time where she pined for a rescuer who never arrived. Her safety lay in pretense—that what she saw was as a tale twice told. Now, the reward?" "I have but an ill-furnished purse. Lucy grabbed his shirtsleeve, whispering on tiptoe. Heard of your last escape. Now then," he added more calmly, "I am ready to die. She ducked behind a pile of unused drywall. Cocking the gun. "Much that I would willingly forget. "And now let's see who'll dare to oppose me. I thought every one had heard about it. “You’re self-taught, aren’t you, Lucy?” She looked around the table, all eyes upon her.
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