Summer in Orcus

by T. Kingfisher

Summer’s mother believed that books were safe things that kept you inside, which only shows how little she knew about it, because books are one of the least safe things in the world.)

“I don’t think it’s a chicken coop,” said Summer. “There’s a lot of stained glass.” “Perhaps they’re very religious chickens.”

“Humans hoard up their fears as if the world might run out.” He huffed a laugh. “Still, you build cities with them—and towers and artworks and families and faiths. It seems to work for your people, even if it would not work for mine.”

Tell me about your journey, and start a little before the beginning, because we are usually wrong about where things begin.”

“I, too. I keep many books at my home.” He gestured to the books in the tent. “These are only a few. Those I think might need on this trip, and those I have yet to read and might want, and those old friends that I cannot bear to leave behind.”

Sometimes all the choices are bad.

“It would be a good day for the world if I could not find a child who knew terrible adult things. But I will be a great deal older before that day comes, I think.”