Unlike the others, Sister Martha Lamb’s feet were about to touch ground. The imaginary dragon behind her issued a final roar of disapproval before fading out of existence. Dream becomes reality. “You may pass,” the gatekeeper gruffed when seeing soles to stone, and she crossed the threshold into Southwest Castle,
hell heaven bent on finding the royal child and bringing her home to her true flock.
“Not *you* Strummy,” he then joked to the man now behind her whose legs remain embedded up to his calves.