Rylan had numerous hours that night to contemplate it. Sunrise finally crept up behind him and projected his silhouette on the sand. The shadow looked like an ill-formed hulk of a man, shoulders hunched forward, head sunk down between them, hair unruly. That shadow could have belonged to the sulky ogre in the most ferocious fable.And that was exactly what he felt like.Cursing himself, he lay down on the sand and stared up at the sky. It was rapidly losing its colorless, predawn pallor and taking on a pink glow, like a gravely ill patient who was showing visible signs of improvement. The stars that had held on for as long as possible winked a farewell and blinked out.Rylan raised his hands and looked at them. He turned them this way and that. They hurt. The flesh was blistered and streaked with red. Maybe they were to blame. He’d been in pain, albeit subconsciously. His mother had always said he was the most ungracious patient. When he was sick, he was furious at the ailment for incapacitating him and had taken his anger out on everybody around him.
