Peninnah is now five, and her wingspan should be sufficient to carry her aloft; she's just having a little trouble with the necessary coordination. Isabella has worked with her, and so has Rinnah, but Peninnah is impatient and has given up on both of them in favor of asking Damaris for help, on the poorly articulated theory that Damaris, at age thirteen, is closer to Peninnah's own size and might make more sense.
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So Keziah doesn't say anything, and thinks, and doesn't get much of anywhere, and continues to be flusteredly friendly when she sees Junia at music lessons or in the cafeteria or around the Eyrie.
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"My mom can! She can!" insists Keziah. "What is it? Or - or if you don't want to tell me you can just tell her, or my dad, they can fix it."
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Keziah wilts. "Well - well we can go somewhere else - but she can," she says more softly.
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"Because my mom can do almost anything there is and the things she can't do aren't even things you know are things," says Keziah, folding her arms. "...Let's go talk in a music room."