Wood, "and take your son with you. With a finger crooked in his side-pocket, she measured her step with his, her senses still dizzy from the echo of the magic sounds. Her pa was only the smithy. Somewhere in the world would be his people, perhaps his mother; and it might soften the bitterness, of the return to consciousness if he found a woman at his bedside. Or did he? Perhaps he had found another. The gardens were tidy and geometric, each avenue with a different purpose: flowers for cutting, herbs, brightly colored vegetables.
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