Four Octaves of Light
First octave: the child. Eleanor Whitmore was seven years old when she first understood that the world was larger than her father's estate. She had climbed to the roof of the carriage house, a forbidden ascent that left her palms scraped and her dress torn, and she had watched the geese fly south in a formation that seemed to her like a single organism, a ribbon of life unspooling across the...
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