“Running. She was always running. Like a rabbit chased by coywolv. Always hunting for some new safe bolt hole, and every time, the soldier boys found her, and forced her to rabbit again. The doctor was wrong. There was no place to hide, and she’d never be safe as long as she remained close to the Drowned Cities.”

“Rabbit underground, rabbit safe and sound.”

“Lying in bed that morning after a long and frantic run home, the door dead bolted, chained, and a chair hooked under the knob for good measure, Evangeline knew that she wouldn’t be able to fall asleep. Every creak, every distant sound, drew her attention. Finally, when footsteps sounded from overhead, she watched the ceiling with a tangible fear that John Smith knew what she’d done and that his secret wasn’t safe.”

“All this time she’d thought it God’s will that she be a spinster. She had grown content with that expectation, taking satisfaction in the wisdom she’d gained through her experience with Stephen. No man would dupe her again. But what if living alone was never part of God’s plan for her? What if she chose that life because it was safe—because she was afraid?”

“Miri forced herself to remain very still. Never run from immortals, she remembered; her favorite line from a favorite movie. Never run.”

“I saw you running," she says, her attention on the rabbit. "What were you running from?""Just running," I say. She watching me silently and intently, like a cat."Why?" she asks.I shrug. "Why not?""It's not Productive." She says it like productivity is holy, the only thing worth having."So?" ~Amy”