Lake Lewisia #624

[scrubjayspeaks]

She kept pace with the sleepwalker, walking nearly backward to face him, and tossed the afghan up and around his shoulders like a hunter netting a bird. Each row flowed through her fingers, familiar from a summer of stitching, to settle warmly on the latest winter-chilled person she found on her early morning patrols. Every avid crafter needed a host of recipients for their finished projects--or else a great deal of storage space--and she had found hers in the unwaking wanderers shivering on the streets in their restless dreams.

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LL#624