She lit a kerosene lantern and led Cree out into the back field. It was fully dark now, the three-quarter moon partially hidden behind a strand of gossamer clouds. He paused in mid-stride to glance up at the sky, and in a monotone voice, said, “M-O-O-N.” Then he smiled sadly at Zarah. “One of the characters in my novel spells everything as—” “Yes, I’ve read the book.”
M-O-O-N, that spells Meta
