What place does a woman have here, in the realm of men?
Merry Christmas, I whisper to myself. Merry Christmas, Nate.
Love is a tempestuous mistress. And none of us shall ever master her.
The birch trees loom ahead like a brotherhood of ghosts.
Child, think not of those things, those dark possibilities. Your father and brothers are here with you today. Lavain will tug at your braids, Tirry will sing you songs, and your father will see his wife's beauty in you. Savor their love today. And it will never leave you.
My sparrow, she flickers and wakes and sings and sings.