The voice that rumored her name was n’t loud. It was n’t hanging . It was n’t distorted like the critter’s icy, concentrated speech. rather, it sounded soft — far too soft — like a breath pressed gently against her observance, a private murmur meant only for her. The impropriety of its tenderheartedness stupefied Maya’s blood more deeply than any monstrous roar could have. She staggered backward artificially, her heel catching on the depraved floorboard behind her, but her aspect