Wren
Here is what we did on our honeymoon: nothing, everything, and each other.
I kept no journal those ten days, the only stretch of my new life unrecorded, even Lucien left his at home, a sacrifice he described as "the largest gift I know how to give." So this chapter is written from memory, afterward, and memory keeps only the brightest stones. Let me lay them out.
We slept like the dead and woke like the newly alive, in a tangle that reassembled itself differently every night, and nobody had anywhere to be, and the discovery of that, day after day, never wore out. Zephyr, a dawn creature his whole disciplined life, learned on day three how to stay in bed until midmorning, and took to it with the terrifying thoroughness he brings to everything: "I've assessed the tactical value of la
