Luna was so ready for Peitho to take wrap her arms around her, draw her close and promise nothing bad would happen again. But that wasn't happening yet.
"...but I killed a man," Luna said heavily, finishing the sentence Tinsel had abandoned. God, she could remember how it felt when the knife sunk through flesh and muscle and the nausea rose inside her again.
She took a deep breath to force it away.
"I'm cold," she nodded, agreeing with the idea of a jacket. The weight of the shirt against her bandaged arms felt like a mild form of torture every time she moved even a little, but she still wanted something warmer.