" She paused. There was a stain of wine upon her dress. It’s made up of things as small as the diameter of hairs and big as life and death. "I am, Charcoal. "It is Jonathan. Until two hours ago she was as contented and as happy as a linnet. Melusine ripped strips off her under-petticoats and fashioned a pad, which she bandaged as tightly as she could over the wound, working swiftly, unperturbed by the gore.
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