I’m sorry,” he repeats again, too low for Raven and Tack to hear. “I’m sorry for everything.

The most dangerous sicknesses are those that make us believe we are well

That is what hatred is. It will feed you and at the same time turn you to rot. It is hard and deep and angular, a system of blockades. It is everything and total. Hatred is a high tower. In the Wilds, I start to build, and to climb.

Lindsay calls them the Pugs: pretty from far away, ugly up close.

like I am Alice in the Wonderland and have gotten too big for the room.

I’m sorry for everything.” Then he turns and pushes back into the woods, and he’s gone.

No guest rooms.” I shake my head resolutely. “I want to be in a room room. A lived-in room.