“With one long breath, caught and held in his chest, he fought his sadness over his solitary life. Don't cry, you idiot! Live or die, but don't poison everything...”

“Live or die, but don't poison everything.”

“Live or die, but don't poison everything.”

“I'm sorry," I choke out.He's quiet. Tears drip off my chin. He lets out a slow, shaky breath."Don't cry," he says. "That's not fair."I laugh and sob at the same time."It's okay," he whispers. His fingers brush at the tears on my cheeks. "Don't cry."Then he puts his arms around me, wings and all. I curl my arms around his neck and bury my face in his chest and breathe in the smell of the river on him. Somewhere in the woods a crow caws. A blackbird answers. And then we're kissing and everything goes away but Tucker.”

“What did this portend? He still breathed, the instruments did not change, his heart beat on. But he called to Peter. Did this mean that he longed to live the life of his child of the mind, Young Peter? Or in some kind of delirium was he speaking to his brother the Hegemon? Or earlier, his brother as a boy. Peter, wait for me. Peter, did I do well? Peter, don't hurt me. Peter, I hate you. Peter for one smile of yours I'd die or kill. What was his message?”

“They sat on a bench and Sproule held his wounded arm to his chest and rocked back and forth and blinked in the sun. What do you want to do? said the kid.Get a drink of water.Other than that.I dont know.You want to try and head back?To Texas?I don't know where else.We'd never make it.Well you say.I aint got no say.He was coughing again. He held his chest with his good hand and sat as if he'd get his breath. What have you got, a cold?I got consumption.Consumption?He nodded. I come out here for my health.”