Excerpt: 50 ways to survive the end o' the world with a camera and a cuppa tea

Titania had never been a complicated child. She’d always had simple dreams to get out of the small house on the side of the mountain. Now that she had that, she did not know what else to want. Men and women were easy to please, to make want her to, to play at wanting herself, but they never really did much for her. The one thing she wanted, the thing she missed from the old mountains in the North, was the sunrise. The City’s colors were so muted, so awfully boring.
Face pressed against the window, tattooed hand tracing the cracks, careful not to slice her pale skin, Titania watched as the sun turned the gray sky some mixture of orange and brown. Dropping her hands to her lap, Titania turned away from the window. The pale, watery light barely colored anything in the small room she’d claimed for the night. Her back ached from sleeping on the floor, and she wondered how long they planned on staying in the City. Probably a while longer than any other place they stopped at, they always came back to the City—people appreciated their art.
The girl from the night before, Dagny’s Immy appreciated their art, even if she did not understand it.