I was hungry. And tired. And cold. More hungry and tired and cold than I had ever been before.
When I lived in Silver Hollow, in the cottage I shared with Mother, I thought I understood. I was cold when I spent a night or two with the north wind blowing, when snow drifted up to my knees as I stepped outside our cottage door. I was tired when I spent a full day in the fields gathering herbs, when I helped out in the vineyard harvesting ripe grapes. I was hungry when Mother took too long to...