" He pulls apart the threads of my mind that keep me tied together. My bones become heavy like river stones. My eyes flutter closed, and I hear a change in the air, like the ice splintering along the edge of the pond in winter, thin and delicate. I am the ice: sharp, deadly. I will break if Levi isn't careful. I will slice him open if my edges are exposed. "

― Shea Ernshaw , A History of Wild Places