“A tree?” Mathieu’s voice became rough. “And what of this tree?”
“We can live again. I mean actually live…” Guillaume’s voice became soft. Florence’s eyes widened, and the car’s speed increased. “What I wouldn’t give! I’d trade my soul…” she started.
“As if we hadn’t done that already.” Guillaume answered dryly. Mathieu swung around to look them in the face. “We didn’t choose this fate. It chose us.”
“We didn’t choose to be monsters.” Guillaume whispered.
“We didn’t choose our meals.” Florence agreed.
“But, we did choose each other.” Mathieu smiled.