“Are you okay? You seem ...soggy.""Soggy?""Yes." Heather nodded. "Like you're a depressed spaghetti noodle or something.”

“Are you okay? You seem ...soggy.""Soggy?""Yes." Heather nodded. "Like you're a depressed spaghetti noodle or something.”

“Gabriel shuffled around the trunk again, searching for faux arrows—arrows designed to injure but not kill. “All these arrows are sharp—and have blood on them.”“Yes, well, I left my cotton candy arrows at home next to my teddy bear.”Gabriel turned to Tristan. “We’re not going to kill that guy.”“We might.”“Tristan, that’s homicide.”“It’s self defense.”“It’s not self defense. He didn’t come after you.”“But he came after Scarlet. And, technically, Scarlet is a piece of me. So, yeah. It’s self-defense. Are you coming with me or not?”“I don’t want to kill him. I just want to hurt him. Or detain him.”“Or maybe you could just give him a big hug.”Tristan started marching into the woods. “You can stay there and clean weapons or whatever, but I’m going after our intruder.”

“Before he knew he was immortal. Before life was no longer fragile. Those were the days when life truly meant something.When life was hard but worthwile, and love was valuable because your days were numbered.That was living.”

“Scarlet watched a leaf fall to the ground, lying dead amoung the other leaves on the forest floor. "A brief life seems pointless."Tristan thought for a moment. "Isn't that what life is, though? A brief opportunity to exist? A short gift?”

“Are you okay? You seem ...soggy.""Soggy?""Yes." Heather nodded. "Like you're a depressed spaghetti noodle or something.”

“How did you kill the Ashman in the forest last year?”“I shot him with an arrow.”“What kind of arrow?”“A sharp one.”Nate rolled his eyes. “Really, dude? A sharp one?”

“Tristan was silent for a few moments, looking at the leaves before them. "Life isn't about the past and the future. It's about today." He paused. "It's about five minutes from now and two seconds ago. It's moments, you know? Not years. Years aren't what define us.”

“His voice is so low I can feel it brushing my waist.”

“We sit in silence for a minute. Thinking about the freedom we don't have and the future we can't control.”

“She just keeps kissing my scars. Every scar. She knows about them all. She watched them all appear and heal. Sophie's lips against me make every punch, every kick, every wound, every scar worth it.”

“Love.Not the kind you see in the movies or hear about on the radio.The real kind.The kind that gets beaten down and bloody, yet perseveres.The kind that hopes even when hope seems foolish.The kind that can forgives. The kind that believes in healing. The kind that can sit in silence and feel renewed.The real kind of love.It's rare and we have it..”