“Above me the branches of the tree were cracked and withered. Bare limbs forked and forked again into shapes reminiscent of a stag’s horns. Brown leaves swirled at my feet. Matthew had survived because I’d pushed its vitality through my veins and into his body.”

Image: moon and oak from misanthrophia.net (This website no longer seems to exist, so if this is your photo and you want me to remove it please let me know!)  —Deb