Authors: Patricia Anthony
“Open it, First Brother,” Oomal said with shy, fierce pride. “Open it for Angela.”
Reen ripped the paper. It bled and shrieked. And from Reen’s hands blue worlds spilled out like doves.
When the planets had spun away, Oomal spread his arms. Reen had forgotten how warm, how soft his Brother’s body could be.
Love, that never-ending thing. If only Marian had seen their daughter grow from a single cell, maybe then she would roll her name around in her mouth like candy.
Angela, small as a mustard seed, tiny as faith.
Angela, large as an arm’s span.
In a wash of pewter light from the window Jeff Womack sat rocking, a gun stoppering his mouth. His silent eyes met Reen‘s, and there was something like ecstasy in them.
Oh, how strange,
Reen thought. The Old Ones loomed in the chamber like mountains, while in front of him, under a female, a Cousin lay motionless and nearly consumed.
I must be dreaming.
Reen was a tiny creature, growing smaller, a being on the intoxicating edge of disappearance. He clutched at the rim of oblivion until he realized that there was nothing to hold on to, and no reason to be afraid of the fall.
Yes,
the Old Ones breathed.
You are.
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