There was nothing, though, not unless she left Cassie. Turning, she blinked against the beam of the flashlight. Recognition swept over her, followed by slack-shouldered relief. Even obscured behind the light, there was a certainty about Eight’s figure that made her calm. Calmer. Because “calm” was a relative term. Barrie wasn’t sure she would ever see the world in a way that would let her be calm again. She sprinted past the carcass of the Colesworth mansion toward Eight, and he started jogging, too, the white beam of light bobbing over the grass, fracturing into a thousand prisms inside her tears. He caught her as she threw herself at him. “What is it, Bear? What happened? What did Cassie do to you?” His arms closed around her, and that was enough. The last of her self-control shattered, and Barrie slumped against him, waiting to feel warm again, burrowing into his chest to inhale his steadiness. “It wasn’t Cassie’s fault.” She forced her head up, but as she spoke the words, handfuls of feathers drifted through her mind, an image of the sky filled with black feathers falling like charcoal snow.
