This is a poem about Max, from Fang's view. Max's poem about Fang is on my profile.

Her wings slice the air like a hot knife through butter,

Strong and silent she flies through the night,

Her hair flies in her face like a thousand tiny whips,

Stinging her face like the wind,

Scared of herself, scared of us

Running, always running,

From Jeb, the jerk,

From Sam, the traitor,

From the School, the torturers,

From me,

the idiot,

the fool,

the lover,

the one for her

Don't run, my darling

Don't run from me

you're safe with me

now

tonight

as you sleep in my embrace.