The Heart of a Luna
Noah
She's breathing, but her heartbeat is so faint that I can’t hear it, so I keep checking, every few seconds, like a man possessed. I press my fingers to the pulse point on her throat and count.
It’s still there. Faint and steady. Stubborn in a way only she can be.
"You can stop doing that," Lyric says without opening her eyes.
"I'm not doing anything."
"You're checking my heartbeat."
"I'm not."
She opens one eye. The light green of it, even here on this miserable frozen rock, is the best thing I've seen in months. "You're a terrible liar for someone who's been alive for thousands of years."
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