When Yona took a hit of Kronole, she felt it swell behind her eyes.
When she pulled the trigger of the gun, she felt it grip below her chest.
When windblown snowflakes melted on her cheeks and the white, moving, living thing looked at her, she felt it flow all through her, tingling over every inch of her skin.
She knew why her father had given her Kronole. How else, on that train, could he give her a taste of this?
She didn’t know why he’d told her to stop firing the gun.
…Until she had children of her own.