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February, the ugliest of her sullen brood, swallowed Chris alive.

Tumbling and disoriented, swept along in a flood of midlife bustle, he fell into the belly of the gray beast. Bitter coils of darkness stretched before him. Beyond them, he knew, a light cast fluttering shadows into the humid air of a spring evening. But that was far from this place. And he wondered how he would ever make his way through the cold bowels of this endless month.

Detached and disinterested, Winter watched. She did not care one way or the other.