"Helpme."

        Reyasatup,reachingforthezipperonhercostume.Theoversizedpawsmadeitnearlyimpossible—herfingerskeptslippingoffthetinymetalpull.

        Julianmethergaze,silentlyaskingforconfirmation.

        "Justhurry,"shesaid,impatienceflickeringinhervoice.

        Hishandstrembledastheybrushedthroughtheplushfur,finallyfindingthezipper.Long,fine-bonedfingers,thekindthatcouldhavebelongedtoanartist—ifnotforthemottledburnscarsscatteredacrossthemlikewhispersofpastpain

        Reyawriggledfreefromthemascotsuitlikeacicadasheddingitsshell.Shefinallyslippedherhandsoutoftheheavypawsanddidn''twasteamoment,tuggingupthehemofhisshirttorevealfirm,leanmusclebeneath—betterthanshehadexpected.

        Herfingerstracedthemapofoldinjuriesetchedintohisskin,movingwithacurious,almostreverenttouch.

        Aflickerofsadnesspassedthroughhiseyes,buthedidn''tpullaway.

        "I''m...notgood-looking."

        Reyanodded,matter-of-fact."You''redefinitelydifferentfromtheothers."

        Julianblinked,caughtoffguardbyherbluntness.Afainthurtcrossedhisface.

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