My friends love me terribly, and their grief will be a screaming storm if I die.

I say, 'But he does not have you,' and I kiss her through the orchard gate. It's a kiss I have longed to take. A kiss that gently tugs at Astrid's seething power, at the wildness inside both of us. It's sweet and feels like a confession: I love her.

I don't remember everything that happened, and I'm looking forward to the tale. But I know, I feel, that it was good. Even if I did die. It was a damn excellent dream.

I am Josephine Darly, and I intend to live forever.