Otter Creek trickle down the spine

That spirit and determination he referred to was pretty much just spite; every moment she lived and breathed really served to spite her mother. Still, she indulged his words, even if she didn't quite believe them. At Mahler's question, Maegi was taken a little by surprise—she didn't know the answer.

Because 'adaptable' and 'acceptant' seemed to run counter to everything she was. . .and yet here she was, having endured trial after trial. Alive. Here.

I guess so, she responded after a few moments, shrugging. I don't think of myself that way, but— Yes, maybe you're right. And if he was right, then she would be okay. Things would be better, even if they got worse in the process. (And, unknown to Maegi at this time, they would get worse. And yet, she would go on.)

She shifted her weight uneasily, lost for adequate words. I don't know how to get them through the winter, Maegi admitted, feeling the chill in her bones as she spoke. I don't know if we'll survive it. Are. . .are things better in the mountains? Or is everywhere just completely messed up?