“You stink like cigarettes,” she said. I couldn’t tell where the voice was exactly, it floated around the room in darkness.
“It was either smoke them or eat them,” I grumbled, my eyes were still sealed to the light. The voice became close, intimate.

“How did you survive the Express?” she said, referring to the stretch of desert that almost killed me.

“A rune on my stomach that told me I wasn’t hungry, and a rune in my throat that told me I wasn’t thirsty”