“I meet Puck at the head of the cliff road. She frowns when she sees me; I know my face must be a wasteland of fatigue after last night.”

“I'm already waiting when Puck gets to the top of the cliffs. I'm not the only one; about two dozen race tourists have made perches out of rocks, watching Corr and me as closely as they dare. Puck glares at them all, searing enough that some of them flinch in surprise. I'm not certain what to expect from her after last night. I don't know how to address her. I don't know what she expects from me or what I expect from me. What I get is a wordless hello and a November cake in my hand.”

“And there is the girl. When I first see her and her dun mare from my vantage point on the cliff road, I am struck first not by the fact that she is a girl, but by the fact that she's in the ocean. it's the dreaded second day, the day people start to die, and no one will get close to the surf. But there she is, trotting up to the knee in the water. Fearless.”

“That's the one." In Puck Connolly's custody. That might be the last I see of that jacket.”

“I lost a horse today.''That sounds careless. What happened?''She jumped off a cliff.''A cliff! Is that normal?”

“Grace. I held on to that name. If I kept that in my head, I would be OK.Grace.I was shaking, shaking; my skin peeling away.Grace.My bones squeezed, pinched, pressed against my muscles.Grace.Her eyes held me even after I stopped feeling her fingers gripping my arms.Sam," she said. "Don't go.”

“She draws patterns on my face / These lines make shapes that can’t replace / the version of me that I hold inside / when lying with you, lying with you, lying with you.”