I hardly care about this body's pain, and so the wire-thin press of it into me is something I can ignore as I drive the knife deep inside it, seeking out a place that works like a heart. But - the wire tears at more than flesh. I can feel it digging into the parts of me that are no longer flint and stardust, the places that have wept, and that is a pain that makes me howl.

"Stop," I cry out in fury, and there is blood and venom and coaldust all over my hands, but the pain does not stop.