More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
No matter how pale and pure and perfect you are, the moon is even more perfect.
An absolutely true statement.
There is a great deal that goes on when someone goes missing, and none of it is good. It is a tiresome sort of panic, because there is no end to it. It goes on and on and on until you are hollowed out and empty and still there is no end.
The raven fluffed its beard. “I am the Sound of Mouse Bones Crunching Under the Hooves of God.” Gerta blinked a few times. “That’s…quite a name.” “I made it myself,” said the raven, preening. “I stole the very shiniest words and hoarded them all up until they made something worth having.
The snow that night came quietly at first, a few flakes and a few more flakes, then settled into a business-like snow that did not trouble itself with theatrics.
