"Oh," she said, breathlessly, and put a hand up towards the children. They were so beautiful, like little sparks of glitter shaken on a dead-black piece of paper, sparkles and shimmers, beautiful like she wished sometimes she could be. "Oh, you're so pretty!"

She didn't know why she felt at ease with them-- perhaps it was because they were a tree, a pleasant tree, and because they were only curious, not malicious. So many people at home looked at her like they wanted to eat her up. The flower-children here only wanted to tug at her hair.