the smuggler’s bible


The Fates are weird. Meleager’s mother saved his life once by pulling a burning twig out of the fire. Now, it’s back in her hand and she’s holding a match in the other.

“He really came through for us when that boar was eating people,” her husband says, trying to play the whole thing cool.

“He killed both of my brothers, though. To impress his girlfriend.”

“He’s your son, Althea.”

“You’re right.” She rolls her thumbnail over the match head and watches the fire flare orange. Shadows flicker high on the wall. “But goddamn. I grew up with those guys.”