The waiting around is the worst. The ships don’t come by as often as you’d think, especially in this economy, so there’s a lot of down time. And frankly, there’s not a lot to do when you live in a meadow on an island. We could sing, I guess, or play music, but that’s sort of our job, so it’s not exactly fun, you know? I sometimes pick grass and braid it, or I do that thing where you hold a blade of grass in your hands a certain way and you blow on it and it sounds like a whistle. Boy, that last one really annoys my sisters.

I don’t like them, by the way — my sisters. You would think we’d get along better, since we have so much in common, but I think it just makes us fight more. Plus, we’re always hungry and that really makes a person grouchy.

But we put all that behind us when we see those white sails on the horizon. We do each other’s hair and tell each other how pretty we look. We get our instruments and tune them, and we warm up a bit.

We hide the bones and the bodies.

We wait. And then, we sing.