But she had always imagined that if it happened, her death would be in a whirlwind tangle of claws and teeth and a****l rage, not passive like this, i... front of people she knew. She felt weak at the knees, and fought for some measure of control.The feathered-one spoke out in a clear voice. Of course Ankneela understood none of her words, but she knew that the answering sound of the crowd was one of assent. Were they agreeing to her death? Had they come here to witness it, perhaps even revel in. She’d bundle us up in bed, and with Vaseline and her warm, dry hands, her touch was so light, I never felt anything. Then, she’d sit and read to us or sit and read to herself while she’d play one of Mom’s sweet old fairy tale LP story or folk song albums. Once, Grandma and I watched a really cool cartoon short film from Denmark or somewhere. Then, we had a special wooden potty that sat on the toilet and a footstool to rest our feet on; Grandma would wrap a big soft bath towel around us like a. More

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