I felt it more than I saw it: Anna was so startled that she nearly fell off of her horse.
“You were named by a what?”
Her whisper was sharp enough to cut through a dry pork chop. Her amazement cut me to the bone. It was understandable. But still.
“I was named by a very old tree. In The Old Dominion, of course.”
“So, exactly how did that happen, Miss Willow? Did you hear a great rumbling voice speaking to you from out of the -”
She stopped speaking, giving me a look as if we were at Sunday meeting hearing of Moses and the Burning Bush. I began to laugh and had to stop myself, fearing that I might endanger our escape with too much mirth.
“I had only…
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