"Hi." Kya heard a tiny voice behind her and turned to see a girl ofabout four years with blond ringlets looking up at her. She was dressed in a pale blue frock and reached out her hand. Kya stared at the little hand; it was puffy-soft and maybe the cleanest thing Kya had everseen. Never scrubbed with lye soap, certainly no mussel mud beneaththe nails. Then she looked into the girl‘s eyes, in which she herself was reflected as just another kid. - P65
Sycamore and hickories stretched naked limbs against a dull sky, and the relentless wind sucked any joy the winter sun might havespread across the bleakness. A useless, drying wind in a sea-land thatcouldn‘t dry. - P73