When it came time to eat once again, she hid out on the beach, a remote fastness beyond the city walls, a swampy morass that everyone avoided. She could feel his breath on her skin, every hair on her arms and neck raised in response. His nose was large but also fine and angular, tapering to a point at the end like a nobleman’s. She was sick of herself, of her life, of everything but him; and for him all her masked and hidden being was crying out. He poured a pinch of tobacco into his palm and sniffed. Maggot; "Jack will hear you. Practically.
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