I knew Stolas wasn’t doing well when I woke and found him asleep again. At some point, he had moved us. We were in a crumbling concrete building, he was lying flat on his back with me on his chest. His wings were laxly spread and I was disturbed to see the number of missing feathers. He needed help, and the only thing I could do to help him was let him feed from me. But he wouldn’t do that because I was pregnant. I traced a ragged healing bullet wound. It definitely should have been closed by now, but I didn’t know how much energy he’d been expending on keeping us safe, either. How could I get him to feed?
He usually touched the Mark. I chewed my lip. Usually with his mouth. Obviously I couldn’t make him do that, it was in such an awkward position and besides, how to get him to
