The Box Voice

Heavy metal claws pinned his shoulders, pressing him into the soft, silty lake bed. They began to squeeze, deforming flesh on their way to bone. Zhao wanted to scream, but couldn't. He had clung to isolation, thinking it would keep them safe. But all he'd done was condemn them to lives of inevitable distance and estrangement. Death had taken Shen away, but he was taking himself away. That had to change. Choking and writhing, he pulled with every last shred of strength he had left,. twisting and kicking to break the bird's grip. Finally, something gave and the hot lick of metal through skin ran down his arm.