Eustasia Johannsen was ready. Anyone could see that. Everything about her ancient self gave evidence to it: Her skin, wrinkled and transparent… But mainly, it was her eyes. They were drawn into her face as if her memories occupied more of her sight than what was actually in front of her.

Eustasia Johannsen was ready. Anyone could see that. Everything about her ancient self gave evidence to it: Her skin, wrinkled and transparent… But mainly, it was her eyes. They were drawn into her face as if her memories occupied more of her sight than what was actually in front of her.

– Clare Vanderpool –

Navigating Early

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