ya spiral blog

2

The drone in my ear, it’s like the tornado drill in elementary school, the hand-cranked siren that rang mercilessly, all of us hunched over on ourselves, facing the basement walls, heads tucked into our chests. Beth and me wedged tight, jeaned legs pressed against each other. The sounds of our own breathing. Before we all stopped believing a tornado, or anything, could touch us, ever.

(Happy Birthday to my darling heart Jess)

The Duke would have recognized that look. He had spent long years on the ravaged northern borders, where the villages were constantly under siege and the peasants fought their battles with little aid from the King or anyone else.

He had seen a woman, barefoot and unflinching in her doorway, face fown a row of bayonets. He knew the look of a man defending his home with nothing but a rock in his hand.

—  Leigh Bardugo, Shadow and Bone