“When you have to sit still, you want to fly,” he said, looking down at her pale, gnarled, delicate hand on his arm. “If you have to fly, you want to sit still. I learned sitting, at home. I learned flying, with the historians. But I still couldn’t keep my balance.” “Then you came here,” she said. “Then I came here.” “And learned?” “How to walk,” he said. “How to walk with my people.”
