"Do you think it's really that bad?" I asked, twisting a little to look at Eddie behind me. He touched my old scar, the one from Peter, the one that had been bleeding so terribly when I arrived and I shivered a little. Most of the time I didn't think about my scars very often. They weren't as plentiful as perhaps they should have been on someone who had lived like me, but most had had such a long time to fade. The one on my thigh and the small, circular burns on my arm had been fresh, though, when I arrived in Darrow, and they were still here. They were here to stay, I thought.

Still looking back at Eddie, I found myself grinning. This was always how I'd felt after escaping the pirates, only it was better. The elation that came with winning a fight was increased tenfold, because it was Eddie who had won it instead of me.

"Are you looking at my butt?" I asked, teasing. It was stupid. I was being stupid. But I felt good. I felt alive. I wiggled my butt at Eddie and then laughed.