Fakir inhales, exhales, repositions his feet for steadiness. He's done it enough in the last day that the steps are becoming instinctive.
If the family tree is right, and I'm a descendant of Drosselmeyer, then my father was too. Could he have fought the crows the way I tried to? Could he have saved us?
Did I get in his way?
Fakir sorts through the memories of his childhood, and finds no answer.
--
By midafternoon on the second day, Fakir is seeing flickers from the corners of his eyes, but when he turns to look, there's nothing there. The pages on Drosselmeyer's desk seem to shift of their own accord. He can hear the stories rising from them, read by multiple voices:
Once upon a time there was a princess who dreamed of escape peasant who had three sons man who died. One day the princess cut off her hair and braided a rope peasant said, "My sons, I have no money" man who died laughed and laughed and laughed--
no subject
I wouldn't talk about mine, either.
Fakir inhales, exhales, repositions his feet for steadiness. He's done it enough in the last day that the steps are becoming instinctive.
If the family tree is right, and I'm a descendant of Drosselmeyer, then my father was too. Could he have fought the crows the way I tried to? Could he have saved us?
Did I get in his way?
Fakir sorts through the memories of his childhood, and finds no answer.
--
By midafternoon on the second day, Fakir is seeing flickers from the corners of his eyes, but when he turns to look, there's nothing there. The pages on Drosselmeyer's desk seem to shift of their own accord. He can hear the stories rising from them, read by multiple voices:
Once upon a time there was a princess who dreamed of escape peasant who had three sons man who died. One day the princess cut off her hair and braided a rope peasant said, "My sons, I have no money" man who died laughed and laughed and laughed--
Fakir covers his face with his shaking hands.