Linden reached up with stiff arms and tried to pull his sodden ruff right, then abandoned the effort. “It is not strange to me, really, that you should turn on us at last. I know how vast we lived, with what ease, at every sister’s expense. Not one grain of pollen or drop of water, let alone nectar, did we ever bring in. Nor one stroke of work did we do—but we were very quick with our demands. Clean my hooks, lick my groin. Admire me, attend me, and you may eat my crumbs. And all the food we wasted . . . Forgive me.”
