Qeya River c is for clara who wasted away

He didn't want to go.

But he had no choice. His children deserved at least one living parent, and the somber, almost skeletal way Heda's eyes were scarcely housed in her drawn skull told Anselm that she was not mistaken in believing this was her end.

His heart. The thing he thought was scorched and blackened to the point of unfeeling; turns out it was only scarred over and scabbed -- and this new injury was a mortal wound, and he felt every bit of him bleeding out there in the dirt where she'd first told him the truth.

He closed his eyes, trying to come back to the present. He did not wish to relive what he saw that day, but again and again it resurfaced. When he opened his eyes, Gideon's face was sour and his ears flat. Amadeo is gone. Anselm tried to keep the hatred from his voice, for if nothing else, his boys should learn pragmatism. They wouldn't do that having a spiteful father.

I don't know how. Druid was sick, and she passed it to your mom. Struggling to keep his voice even, Anselm continued. Mom wants us all together. It vill be hard, but it is vhat she vants. Only time vill tell if the sickness passes. Or if -- he could not finish the unthinkable thought.