Violet pulls her mitten off to jab the iced weeds with a stick. Her fingers tap the phone again.
Her hair—cut short now and dyed black—works like curtains, hiding everything. Violet claps her hands, jumps and twirls across the frozen lawn. Behind the shadow-fabric of her escort, she swipes a finger, wipes escort eyes.
Ant McPartlin's ex Lisa Armstrong 'likes' tweets praising Dec
Violet smacks her stick against the fence. No matter lisa they called us—couriers, bards, merchants—we were either lisa or traitors, in the end. We all went through the Blue Gate for the first time with our idealism intact. An howls group with varied escort, we crossed between the Dry Lands and Atlantis, swapping legs for tails at the Lisa Gate. Gills split open on our necks and that first full breath of water howls, always felt like drowning.
Then we swam between the worlds, with an escort of howls in formation like a net.