Frae stood beside Mirin, watching her weave on the loom. It was an ordinary plaid, one that didn’t hold a secret because Frae wasn’t to learn that skill until she came of age. And yet Frae’s eyes felt crossed amongst all the threads. No matter how she tried, she didn’t see what her mother did. She couldn’t see the possibilities, how to make a pattern come to life, but she dutifully watched Mirin work.
