Black Morass Do you ever feel like falling for someone you never thought of falling for?

"Not dead," the boy brusquely pointed out, followed by sliding his tongue thoughtfully over his lips. At least, Absalom didn't look dead. He'd seen death many times, strewn out across Blackfeather's borders in the form of limbs and eyes and faceless bones, but he'd never seen it walk, talk or ask questions. For him, you were dead or you were alive. There was no in between, not without a concept of dead man walking, which he certainly didn't have.

Months of growing up among the Blackfeather wolves had done nothing to teach Ramsay the value of hiding his identity, so when Absalom asked for it, he answered truthfully: "Ramsay." And he was equally truthful when he shook his head in response to the next question. There was no one named Indra in the Blackfeather ranks. Still, just to be certain, he rejoined with, "she a Blackfeather? What does she look like?"

After all, there was the lady without a voice. She didn't have any name that Ramsay had ever heard, but that didn't mean she wasn't Indra.