The moon was bright, and stars sparse; Dingdang was flitting about chaotically. Lying in bed, I was tossing and turning. Having bustled about outside all day, why on earth couldn't I fall asleep now?
The little thing was jubilant from harvesting a heap of candy, now circling around and around on the ceiling, while the box in the corner was slightly swaying because the few dolls inside had received storybooks as gifts. Until a few minutes ago, they were not sleeping but chattering nonstop about the contents of the books—by heavens, those things were more suitable for children than Lilina's gruesome fairy tales.
And I, until now, was still marveling at the wonder that is fate.
