After giving Amanita one last look, Bitterroot walked away, not in any direction in particular. She paid attention to her body like she’d never done before. And she almost, almost felt normal. Her legs behaved the way they ought. The air was cold and tugged at her mane. Her eyes weren’t seeing any strange colors or grayscales. The only thing wrong was that the cold didn’t seem as biting as normal, like the difference between a wet heat and a dry heat. No wonder Catskill hadn’t known she was dead. Bitterroot knew she was dead and was having a hard time believing it.