But naught was to be seen. An early lamb, torn from the mother who had been herded away, cried at the top of the hill. The stream babbled under its cr...st of ice. But her father did not speak. His eyes were motionless, his face tinged blue, stiff from cold. And death. She knelt by him and wept, for how long she did not know, but when she raised her head again the noon sun was westering. She returned to the cave behind the rock, where she had hidden, returning home with her father’s stallion.. I shouted back at him from around the corner. “Close it up if you like! It doesn’t matter to me.” I could hear the echo of my own voice through the shop. The air was still and the silence came quickly as I found the romance section and began to thumb through it, finding that I had already completed too many of the same ones and then came across a row that seemed to be fairly new. I started from the right side and was working my way to the left, picking up each book and reading the back to see. More

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