Across the lake, we dance each night with men who are not men at all, who dress in black from their slippers to their shirts, whose eyes shine like the polished backside of a beetle.
Our eldest sister commands the boats, her feet firmly fixed on the floor of the shell, one hand slapping the hull as she calls out orders from the back of the boat. Every visit to the Other Land, there is a ravenous flame in her eye, and her hair flutters behind her like banners in the wind.
We who are younger understand the role she plays. All our lives she has guided us in ways our father and mother could not. Much like the rowboats, she has steered us forward into the future.
But I am terrified of her, and I am terrified she will notice me. That’s why I stay out of sight, and make no trouble. She is capable of frightening strength, in both mind and action.