Michelle Davy

3%
Flag icon
I was enfolded in her limitless motherly love, and I would breathe in her own sweet smell. She had such patience. Such tenderness. Such determination to teach me all that she knew, to share with me all her wonderful knowledge. It is the cruelest of the torments of my great age that grief does not abate, not beyond a certain level. It merely continues, my only companion across oceans of time.
The Witch's Daughter (The Witch's Daughter, #1)
Rate this book
Clear rating
Open Preview