" They spin away, always away. Too fast to understand, sometimes. They rush on, but we remain. They will come back, and we will still be here, as they expect us to be. We are the guardians.

In between each small flurry, we rest. We breathe. Redeema raises her face to the sky. "My children," she murmurs, and the sound of it aches. "

― Kekla Magoon , How It Went Down