Hushed Willows To my favorite liar, to my favorite scar

No matter how loud you were, there was always someone louder.

Fox recoiled from the feeling of her sister's hot breath on her face. For a moment she was incensed. She grew louder, but soon the familiar presence of her mother materialized. Immediately the girl was soothed. These were foundational lessons, ones she had already learned in some small way, and each day they were reinforced: sisters were for screaming, butting heads, making messes and challenging the world. A mother was for comfort. She quieted.