Blood is Thicker
(Sun Series #4)
Since the last time, an old oak (maybe three feet across) split, with its branches reaching out almost to the trail. There, a woman in a white coat walked slowly back and forth with her back to her husband, who stood on the picnic lawn by a flaming barbecue grill. As I came near, I could see he was feeding yellowed pages, one by one, into the flames. Back in the woods, I left my own offering and received the call of her red-bellied sister; that was all. All that remained after that were fallen branches and wisps of gray ashes flying up through the grates.