I hear Aurora’s story, but the visions in my mind’s eye are not of her. They’re of me, years ago… I’m sixteen and in my loft. I gather a stretch of red thread I carefully dyed myself, a white and red candle, a few other ritual items. Heart fluttering with excitement and anticipation. Tonight is the night I’m supposed to swear myself to another before the old gods. My feet don’t make a sound, as silent as the door behind me. I am a night lark that soars across the grasses and into the forest, to the great redwood tree. I had been ready to give myself wholly that night. Everything I had.
