It was too early to go into Central London. It would be after six when the wine bars start getting busy. I decided to walk down the high street to the...next station at Turnpike Lane. The streets were crowded with shoppers, getting into the Christmas spirit. Going past McDonald’s, I decided to have my meal, before I took the train.At the entrance of the fast-food restaurant, sitting on the cold pavement was a homeless man. He was wrapped up with an old quilt. The blanket’s original colour must. After a time, either a flickering instant or an unnoticed eternity, the Gnari woman swallowed her sorrow. Set her jaw hard, as she’d watched her Master do so often. She let her pain overtake her sorrow, then. Let it burn inside her, hard and needling her insides until she was raw with it. The pain was easier than the sorrow, or the loss to come, or the confusion. She clung to her pain, focused on it, and Silmaria began to pray. She didn’t know to whom she sent out her wordless entreaties; she’d. More

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