The wind had changed as it wrapped around them there was a funnel structure now in the way the breeze blew their wispy hair. They could feel it in the thrumming quarter seconds that reverberated through the tips of their wings and down their bodies, each second playing out like a lifetime in their minds. “Mother,” he cried, “I love you!” They were the last words she was to hear from him for a long time. She went from bed to bed, and little Michael threw his arms around her. “They are the eyes a mother leaves behind to guard her children.” “Can anything harm us, Mother, after the night-lights are lit?” Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.įor Maine, who is the sun and the moon and everything in between. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Library of Congress Control Number: 2015940086Ĭover design © Julie Metz, Ltd./ Published by SparkPress, a BookSparks imprint, All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.
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