Gathering Blue

Take pride in your pain; you are stronger than those who have none

Be proud of your pain, for you are stronger than those with none.

Because of fear, they made shelter and found food and grew things. For the same reason, weapons were stored, waiting.

Take pride in your pain," her mother had always told her. "You are stronger than those who have none.

We're the ones who will fill in the blank places. Maybe we can make it different.

He gestured toward her twisted leg. "Like you. Some don't walk good. Some be broken in other ways. Not all. But lots. Do you think it maken them quiet and nice, to be broken?

It's not true. I need all of you. We need each other.

To sadden. To bloom. To bleed. What a strange set of words.

You will fail. Then they will kill you." - Vandara to Kira, following Kira's trial.

But it made her smile, to see it, to see how the pen formed the shapes and the shapes told a story of a name.

The blue was gathered in her hand, and she could feel it quiver, as if it had been given breath and was beginning to live.

It was terrifying, almost unbelievable, the casualness of the cruelty.

When you care about someone and give them something special. Something that they treasire. That's a gift.

But to use the knowledge of the threading, you must learn the making of the shades. When to sadden with the iron pot. How to bloom the colors. How to bleed.

Thomas," she suggested, "you and I? We're the ones who will fill in the blank places. Maybe we can make it different.

She felt a small shudder of fear. Fear was always a part of life for the people. Because of fear, they made shelter and found food and grew things. For the same reason, weapons were stored, waiting. There was fear of cold, of sickness and hunger. There was fear of beasts.

Over and over. They be making me remember everythings. Me old songs, they just be natural. But now they be stuffing new things into me and this poor head hurts horrid.

Suddenly Kira knew that although her door was unlocked, she was not really free.

I brug you two [gifts] . . . I gots the little here in my pockie.' He dug one hand deep into his pocket and pulled out a handful of nuts and a dead grasshopper. 'Nope. Be the other side.' (Matt)

The guardians with their stern faces had no creative power. But they had strength and cunning, and they had found a way to steal and harness other people's powers for their own needs. They were forcing the children to describe the future they wanted, not the one that could be.

Kira closed her eyes, thought, and said them aloud. "Madder for red. Bedstraw for red too, just the roots. Tops of tansy for yellow, and greenwood for yellow too. And yarrow: yellow and gold. Dark hollyhocks, just the petals, for mauve...." "Broom sedge," she added, still remembering. "Goldy yellows and browns. And Saint Johnswort for browns too, but it'll stain my hands. "And bronze fennel--leaves and flowers; use them fresh--and you can eat it too. Chamomile for tea and for green hues.

Take your pride in your pain. You are stronger than those who have none.

All of it was ashes now: the smooth wood, the soft edges, the memory of his hands.

–Enorgullécete de tu dolor –le decía siempre su madre–. Eres más fuerte que aquellos que no sienten ninguno.

We're the ones who fill in the blank spaces. Maybe we can make it different.

Elderberry,” the old woman told her.