" I stood in a round garden with high white walls. I felt that I had seen it before, but I couldn't remember where. Trees ringed the edge of the garden; all around me were great hedges of rosebushes, blossoming in cascades of crimson, white, and red-tipped gold flowers. Overflowing petals lay spattered on the ground beneath them. The light was a liquid, living thing that swirled and eddied through the leaves, rustling them like wind. In the corner of my eye, I thought it had shaped itself into figures that stood watching with still, perilous attention-- but when I looked, they were gone.
Before me stood a dried bush, barely more than a skeleton, just a few brown leaves clinging to its twigs. On the topmost branch perched a brown-and-gray sparrow, its black eyes bright.
Thank you for the crumbs, it said.
My throat itched and stuck to itself as I swallowed. "You," I whispered. "You're the Lar of this house. "

― Rosamund Hodge , Cruel Beauty