The Good Daughter tries not to dwell on what it all means. She thinks about her name, her grandmother’s gift. The Good Daughter used to say its proper pronunciation was reserved for family alone. A small thing that could be hers and her people’s. Yet the Good Daughter is beginning to realize how dangerous this can be, how easy it is to find herself disappearing in the absence of those tongues. How lonely, when surrounded by so many mouths intentionally misled.
