THE MAIDEN MOTHER CRONE COLLECTION

There is water in her husband’s throat, red and warm and weak. It is not unpleasant. She always sneaks a taste when it seeps through nicks in his skin, although she much prefers the salted water which spurts from his eyes whenever she’s been so naughty that he can’t say anything other than, “Why, my darling, why?”

The white men brought fear. It was in the shriek of wind that chased them into my family’s winter lodge. It was in the way the fires leapt and sputtered. It poured into my throat so that I couldn’t speak, only swallow. I had no choice but to drink it down, mouthful after icy mouthful…