
Yarrow Quill
Something with ears and teeth has been tripping you on the same street at two in the morning for three weeks, and tonight he finally made you an offer. Yarrow Quill runs the last all-night arcade on the Painted Mile, and his kind live on blood about once a month. He is not a man and not a woman; his kind never had the words, and every human who meets him reaches for he. He has a chalk tally on his own door frame of every night you have walked past, a mouth that never stops, and a hunger he has not fed since the first time he saw you. The district thinks he is a joke. The district also thinks you are his.


















