Life is like a clam,” Birds Mottle’s father once told her. “Years filtering shit then some bastard cracks you open and scrapes you into its damned mouth.
No-one chooses me. I do not give anyone that right. I am Karsa Orlong of the Teblor. All choices belong to me.
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Children were meant to be gifts. The physical manifestation of love between a man and a woman. And for that love, all manner of sacrifice could be borne.