Chapter 28: What Cannot Be Unread
I don't remember climbing out.
I remember the night air, sharp and clean. I remember Tam's arm around my waist and Ronan replacing the slab with grim efficiency. I remember sitting on the wet grass at the foot of the Hollow, staring at nothing.
"She's in shock," Tam said quietly, above me.
"She's thinking," said Ronan.
"That's the same thing."
"Not always."
They sat down on either side of me. Nobody said anything for a long time.
"My mother didn't die when I was six," I said at last.
"No."
"She died when I was a baby. And someone made up a story about a mother who taught me to braid my hair." My voice was flat. "But she did. I remember her hands. I remember her humming."
"Maybe—" Tam began.
"Who was that?"
Tam fell silent.
"I remember her, Ta
