If your Dead Mother was not already Dead, no doubt your theatrics would kill her. That was your Dead Mother’s favorite horse. It trampled her to death when it became jealous of her attentions to other creatures. Anyway, it’s yours now. You do not resemble your Dead Mother in the slightest, except for your eyes. Your damned, cursed, pale eyes. Your Dead Mother’s feet were so small, she wept bitterly every time she danced. It…