Wolves of the Calla
“I could live in a place like this, he thought. That’d be okay. It’d do me fine.
It was a long log cabin, craftily built and chinked against the winter winds. Along one side there were large windows which gave a view down a long, gentle hill to the rice-fields and the river. On the other side was the barn and the dooryard, beaten dirt that had been prettied up with circular islands of grass and flowers and, to the left of the back porch, a rather exotic little vegetable garden. Half of it was filled with a yellow herb called madrigal, which Tian hoped to grow in quantity the following year.
Susannah asked Zalia how she kept the chickens out of the stuff, and the woman laughed ruefully, blowing hair back from her forehead. “With great effort, that’s how,” she said. “Yet the madrigal does grow, you see, and where things grow, there’s always hope.”
What Eddie liked was the way it all seemed to work together and produce a feeling of home.
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