When I felt Mom trying to stand, I helped her. I stood next to her as she faced the coven and, more specifically, Batsheva. I tried to feed her but she blocked me, so I stopped. She wavered as she stood there, but her shoulders sat square. She was herself. I couldn't ask for more than that.

"Well?" Batsheva demanded, voice throbbing with emotion. Her face twisted to a mask of grief. I thought she was laying it on a little thick. "Explain yourself! Explain this ...