Nory Ryan’s Song

Three steps, then I eased the door Open. Outside it was bright as day. The moon was up, full and white, throwing sharp shadows away from me. I heard thunder somewhere, though, and the air was damp and heavy. 
Nighttime belonged to the sídhe, so I was afraid to take more than a few steps, but it was far enough. The potato stalks leaned against each other , limp and wet, the leaves shape less and drifting.     — from Nory Ryan’s Song

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