Cedar Sweep like carillon bells, the house of Augustus rings

Old gods. She had been correct, it was a plural. And the addition of “old” just made it more interesting. She huffed a noise, then broke into a rasping laugh.

The people I knew would have called that heretical. Passerine’s face split into a grin of good humor, though that was the only expression she wore. The rest of her was carefully blank.

She blinked lazily, like a lioness after eating her fill.

Tell me more? It was a decision based purely on the raging she knew would occur if any of the nuns had heard her speak it aloud. It would make the beatings of her childhood look more like patting upon a loyal hound’s head.