Lost Creek Hollow compartidos

silvertongue listened. she did not remember that her father and mother had ever passed anything down to her about the afterlife. save for dia de los muertos, which she hardly recalled after so long in akashingo. but she mustered the memories as crowfeather spoke, of words said to los ancestores, of offerings given, of songs and marigold flowers. she was lulled as he spoke, and thought very much he explained things so well. "dream the stars?" she repeated. but she was not opposed. silvertongue looked at the sky. "when?"