“If the past is full of bad things, if a people is defined by the terror done to them, it’s good for it to go, don’t you think?” said Yetu. “I was a historian.” It made her feel so good to say that. Was. No longer. She blinked her eyes shut and tried to cast out thoughts of the wajinru locked in the Remembrance. “It was a very holy thing for my kind. It meant I held on to all the memories so no one else had to, generations and generations of them. Six hundred years of pain.”
