The air had changed when we went out the next morning. Our breath turned into puffs of white and drifted away. I shivered. Cherie pulled her round face down lower in her heavy red coat. I puffed up my feathers to trap some heat around my wings, then cupped my wings around my back to stop the wind.

Angels all around us were bundled up like they thought the killing cold was already there. They hunched down inside their clothes, hurrying to wherever they were headed, every now and then throwing sidelong glares at me.

I watched them go. It got a lot colder than this on the Range.

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“I could ask for some cold season clothes for you,” Cherie said, eyeing my bare arms and chest. “I’ve heard that a chosen one gets to ask the gods for anything they want.”

“I’m fine. Anyway, there’ll be jackets and stuff at the god drops soon. There always are around this time. I’ll get one then. This is your chance to get the new {square of plastic}.”

“But—”

I shook my head. “We’ve still got some warm afternoons for a while. I won’t need a coat until the killing cold comes and it’s frozen all day long.”

Her lips were hidden behind the top button of her coat, but her scrunched up pale eyebrows gave away the frown.

She stuck her arm through mine, puffy from her coat and the natural softness of her body, and pulled me along. “Come on. It’s this way.”