Lost Creek Hollow avisame

but silvertongue did not want that; her entire being shied from the image of a tiny face looking up at her with mirror eyes. it was almost nightmarish, the horrendous guilt that accompanied this vision, and then a secondary wave for feeling so repulsed. these children belonged to crowfeather; they would be extensions of him, even if they looked like her. and even if they held her looks, they would still be his. in this silvertongue took comfort, until she had warmed somewhat and found a wan smile that faded very slowly. "are you afraid that — that it will happen again, mariposa?"