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The copper on her wrists and ankles -- ainst the aches in her bones -- felt cold as ice against her withered skin, cold as a rapist’s touch, disdainful of her frailty, conte heart

The Rhivi spirits refused her, ered, fell hard to her knees The jolt of the ied to the ground, bedraggled, alone in an alley of dirt

’ "Flesh,"’ a voice murmured above her, ’ "which is the life within" These, cherished friend, are the words of birth, given in so es They are joy and pain, loss and sacrifice, they give voice to the binds of motherhood … and more, they are the binds of life itself’

Grey hair dangling, the Mhybe raised her head

Crone sat atop a tent’s ridgepole, wings hunched, eyes glittering wet ’I arief, you see, my dear -- tell no-one you have seen me so weakened by love How can I comfort you?’

The Mhybe shook her head, croaked, ’You cannot’

’She is you more than the others -- htchill, more than the T’lan Imass-’

’Do you see me, Crone? Do you truly see me?’ The Mhybe pushed herself to her hands and knees, then sat back and glared up at the Great Raven ’I aht but endless aches Dried brittle -- spirits below, each e closer to … to …’ her head drooped, ’to hatred,’ she finished in a ragged whisper A sob racked her

’And so you would die now,’ Crone said ’Yes, I understand A mother must not be led to hate the child she has birthed … yet you demand too much of yourself’

’She has stolento fists from which the blood within them fled The Rhivi wo a stranger’s hands, skeletal and dead, there at the end of her thin arms ’Oh, Crone,’ she cried softly ’She has stolen s, tilted forward on the pole, then dropped in a sround before the Mhybe ’You must speak with her’

’I cannot!’

’She must be made to understand-’

’She knows, Crone, she knows What would you have ? This river flows unceasing, unceasing …’