Sleepy Fox Hollow By thee, old Capulet, and Montague

Her wariness faded as the girl wriggled ecstatically in the leaves, and Snowe broke into a grin once more. Clearly, there was nothing to fear from her. The brown lady could be no more than a year old; she was the picture of youth, despite her sometimes-haunted expression. 

"Sif," she repeated, committing the name to memory. "My name is Snowe." She thought about offering the girl her other name, but decided against it. She had chosen Snowe; she had been given Miyako. She opted for the name she chose.

She looked around, finding no other souls to speak of in the valley. "Where are your. . .um, girlfriends, now?" It seemed an odd arrangement, a bunch of girls living together, but Snowe surmised it must make sense, must work, on some level.