She is
ancient, even for a Trashling. She saw the Great Avalanche. She witnessed the
crusades of the Makers' Children against Those-Who-Burn-Forever. Some whisper
she is older than Fill itself.
They come
bearing bones from mice and birds and strange beasts only the Makers know. They
bring their hopes and fears, their hates and loves.
"Return
on such-and-such day."
She sings
as she shapes the bones into charms. Every customer is satisfied, though
perhaps not in the way they expect.
No one
knows why she keeps certain bones for herself. No one knows the language of the
songs she sings.
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