“I do,” she purred. “I see the hollow where your joy used to nest. I see the acorn you stole from a squirrel last spring and the way you laughed. That laugh is mine now.”
The convulsions stopped. Puck lay panting, his breath misting in the air. He sat up. The crater was empty. The creature was gone. He looked down at his hands. They looked the same—calloused, small, pale from the cold—but he could feel her . parasited little puck parasite queen act 1 new