Northstar Vale wood honey

the days since their birth had been idyllic.

tamar understood now why women went into the red bower for birth. it was a time of bonding with one's children, surrounded by the beautiful trees and the golden sand.

and mothers. sisters. aunts. cousins. grandmothers.

her eyes stung suddenly. tamar did not have them here. only their songs, one of which she softly began to sing, a tune about a lovely blue bird who fell in love with the moon.