What I Do . . . The

There Was So Much Of Beauty Here: The Neat, Small Tracks Of A Foraging Creature, Stoat Or Marten; The Inticate Tracery Of A Skeleton Leaf, Still Clinging Vainly To Its Parent Tree As, Little By Little, Time Stripped It Of Its Substance, Leaving Only The Delicate Remembrance Of What It Had Been.

I Wonder How It Takes You, That Moment When Everything Turns To Shadows. - Somerled.

You Will Find The Way, Daughter Of The Forest. Through Grief And Pain, Through Many Trials, Through Betrayal And Loss, Your Feet Will Walk A Straight Path.

What I Do . . . The Path I Tread . . . It Brings Some Choices That Test Me Hard.

My Daughter," I Said Blankly. "i See. Correct Me If I Am Wrong, But I Thought It Took A Man, As Well As A Woman, To Make A Child. Is This Infant's Father To Be A Crab, Or A Seagull Maybe? Or Were You Planning To Shipwreck Some Likely Sailor On My Doorstep, So I Can Make Convenient Use Of Him?