“I know you feel anxious on sunny days,” Bryde remarked. “You haven’t said it out loud. You barely think it. They love the sunny days, after all. They love a naked sky with a savage white sun set in it like a killer jewel. It doesn’t worry them. It’s a string of rainy days that makes them grow languid and unsteady. Energy draining, depression eating the marrow out of their bones. Rainy days aren’t for them. Do you think a tree hates a rainy day?”
