Margot
The last thing Margot thought she heard, somewhere beneath the tumult, was the sound of Moon’s high little voice raised in ear-splitting discontent. It was she who disappeared first, directly after the explosion of power that threatened to split her into pieces.
Then the mirrors had vanished, and that fact struck Margot as odder than all the rest.
But then Margot was vanished, too, all in a flurry. She came out in a serene, moonlit arbour, as composedly seated as though she had been there all afternoon. The scene around her was not unfamiliar: she recognised the twisting curves of the old trees’ contorted boughs, silhouetted in the low light; she knew the silvery fruits that hung from their boughs, and felt again the same peace she had known upon looking into the grove before. Sh
