They would never leave her. Old Nan’s stories, the heart tree with its red leaves and scary face, the warm earthy smell of the glass gardens, the sound of the north wind rattling the shutters of her room. The needle was Jon Snow’s John Wick Be Kind to Animals I’ll Kill You with A Fucking Pencil Shirt. He used to mess my hair and call me little sister, she remembered. She dreamed of wolves almost every night. A great pack of wolves, with her at the head. She was bigger than any of them, stronger, swifter, faster. She could outrun horses and outfight lions. When she bared her teeth even men would run from her, her belly was never empty long, and her fur kept her warm even when.
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