“Sparrow had inherited Old Woman’s belongings, her goats, and her shelter, too, though that lay empty through the winter. She was rather surprised on taking stock, to discover that by the measure of the Grey Horse People she was a woman of substance. She owned a tent of respectable size, she discovered on exploring the shelter, and a remarkable number of comforts to fill it, even such treasures as a nest of clay bowls and a lidded pot painted with spirals like those limned on her skin. There wer...e baskets of fine weaving, stores of herbs and potions, cured hides and furs, knives of flint and hardened bone and, folded well away, that strange black stone which took so deadly an edge. There was a great store of beads and shells, some strung into necklaces and armlets, most laid away in small baskets or scraps of hide. She even found things that she had no names for: odd gleaming stones, sun-colored or moon-colored, strangely heavy and cold in the hand. Sun’s tears and moon’s tears, she reckoned those; and the small dark stone, heavy and potent, that made her arm ache to hold it, must be the heart of the night.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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