I am looking through old photos and I come across one of myself and two other witches coming in for a nding at the edge of a waterway, little wakes of waves being kicked up by our passage. I smile and check the date. Two years ago. It occurs to me that this photo was the st time I'd flown.

  I wonder why that is?

  The overwhelming weight of everything going on with the world these days, combined with having a day job, I think.

  I try to remember what I st heard the other two in that photo are up to. I think the younger one, on the left, was working on knitting a sweater full of inward-pointing needles to bind some terrible entity. The older one, on the right, cimed she was retiring to a small vilge, but I'm pretty sure she joined up with a cell out west. Last time I saw her, she was carrying a stolen imperial rifle.