Cassandra opened her eyes. The arrow shaft jutted from her chest. She pulled it out. It crumbled like old clay. No wound beneath.

  The stream was the same stream. Same stones. Same moonlight. The water ran backward, barely noticeable unless you were looking.

  Theron stood in the shallows, washing his hands. Nothing came off but he kept washing.

  She watched him. He noticed her eventually.

  "You're up."

  She was.

  He walked over, slow through the current. Settled beside her. They rested in peace.

  "She gets hot at night. Won't keep blankets on." He picked up a stone. "Been like that since she was small."

  The stone turned in his palm.

  "Three months now. The breathing." He threw. Six skips against the current. "She'll be twelve next week."

  "Will she make it?"

  "No." Another stone. "Never does."

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  She looked at him. He looked tired.

  "I've done this before," he said.

  "Killed me?"

  "Killed someone. For her. For time." He rubbed his face. "It's all I do anymore."

  "That sounds exhausting."

  "It is."

  She looked at him properly for the first time. Laugh lines betrayed his true nature.

  "Mara says I collect sayings," he half-smiled. "Here’s one of them: they don’t think it be like it is..."

  "...but it do." She groaned. "Gods, that's the worst thing you've done to me tonight."

  "That's what she said. Want to learn?" He held the stone out to her.

  She snatched it. He adjusted her grip.

  "Side motion. Like this."

  She threw the rock at him. Accidentally.

  "Too hard."

  The second attempt bounced once off the surface.

  "Better." He stood, walked backward into the stream. "You can go back if you want. Through the current."

  "I know."

  "You'll die again."

  "Everyone does."

  "Yes." He was waist-deep. "We do."

  He kept walking backward until the water took him for good.

  Lethe.

  Cassandra sat with the stones. Threw one more. It skipped longer than it should have.

  She stood and followed it upstream.

  Cassandra surfaced. Dawn through shutters. Only her right lung worked.

  She was sitting up against Anaktoria. Eyes bloodshot, still wet.

  "Small breaths," Anaktoria touched her cheek, checking she was real. “Don’t speak, Cassandra. I just found you again.”

  She tried anyways. Air whistled through the hole in her chest. The resin seal was already leaking.

  She coughed. Pink foam came up.

  "Water." Anaktoria reached for the cup.

  The stream had been quiet. She wanted to go back.

  "Back," she whispered.

  "Can't move you yet."

  Through the wall, Damon and Penthesilea arguing.

  Another half-breath. This would take some getting used to.

  Anaktoria held her bandage gently. Her breathing evened out eventually.

  Cassandra decided she could stay a little longer.