Wicked Forest (DeBeers 2)

me.

"Remember. Willow, a branch that does not

bend will always break. Bend with the wind to fool

the wind. Let the wind think it is the master, and when

it stops, go back to being what you were. In time the

wind will grow tired and pass you by."

She was right. My adoptive mother eventually

stopped criticizing her, claiming it was a waste of her

time if Amou wasn't going to take her good advice.

Amou said nothing. She kept those rosy, full lips in a

tight, small smile and shifted her brown-speckled

green eyes at me. We were conspirators by then, allies

in a war within my own house, she and I against my

adoptive mother, neither of us daring to challenge her

face-to-face, but instead snaking ourselves around her,

burrowing beneath her, flying over her, avoiding her,

treating her as if she were invisible as much as we could until, like some exhausted conquering army, she decided to retire from the field and not be bothered

any longer. Her indifference became our victory. "Amour I cried, and ran to her.

She hugged and kissed me, the tears streaming

down her face. "Look at you. Lindo! Muito lindo. My

beautiful Willow."

"And you. Amou. You have finally gained

some weight."

"Don't remind me," she said, her eyes wide,

"My sister thinks I have two mouths and two

stomachs when she cooks, and you know how I hate

to waste food."

"It looks good on you." "Never mind." "Let's go. I can't wait for you to meet Mother

and Linden and especially Thatcher."

We picked up her luggage and headed back to