Chapter 23
The dramas of the preceding evening were hard to remember when I woke to the sound of bird song streaming in no-longer shuttered windows along with the scent of yeast bread wafting up the stairs. Following my nose down to the kitchen, I expected to be met by an array of shifters still on edge from the previous evening’s assault. But, instead, Sarah was the only one inside the sun-lit space, her ruffled apron covered in flour as she flung a heavy round of dough against a thick wooden table that had obviously seen many years as a kneading station before this point.
The scene was so homey that I almost expected Sarah to look up brightly and greet me the way a real mother might. “Come on in, darling,” Terra would have said...assuming, of course, that my adopted mother had the fogg
