She climbed into the cart, her profile knife-clean against a cheery blue sky. A profile that shocked them with its clarity. Was her head a bit too high? Her back a little too straight? Probably. Otherwise the singing would have begun at once, the moment she appeared in the doorway of the house on Bluestone Road. Some cape of sound would have quickly been wrapped around her, like arms to hold and steady her on the way. As it was, they waited till the cart turned about, headed west to town. And then no words. Humming. No words at all.

她爬進(jìn)馬車，她精雕細(xì)琢的側(cè)臉對(duì)著蔚藍(lán)色的天空。這明亮的一幕把他們都震驚住了。是她的腦袋高了那么一點(diǎn)嗎？還是她的背太直了一點(diǎn)？或許吧。否則，在她亮相于藍(lán)石路上那所房子的門道的瞬間歌聲會(huì)立刻響起。聲音會(huì)快速包圍她，就像手臂一樣在路上擁著她、穩(wěn)著她。實(shí)際上也正是如此，他們一直等到馬車掉頭向西邊的小鎮(zhèn)駛?cè)ァＨ缓笠幌伦蛹澎o無(wú)言。只有嗡嗡的聲音。沒(méi)有言語(yǔ)。