Within the burning hut the woman, too weak from the multiple births to try to save herself or her newborns, gazed upon their tiny faces. Her eyes turned toward her hearth. Upon the mantle were many crystals. They sparkled in the fire's light. Quickly she intoned a 'prayer of life'. Not for herself, but for the innocents beside her. "Maker of light, Creator of life and love, carry these souls into safety. Bring them together again sometime in the future. Give them peace and joy. Give them lives of abundance and creativity. I commit them into your hand, you who has formed us with your mighty thoughts. We come back to you now." All that had been, both flesh and wood, become smoke and ashes, floating heavenward. Carried by the wind, it disappeared into the mists of the dawn. Only a hint of her final words lingered. "Jennifer's flowers shall live on." As the early morning light heralded the new day, the song of the night birds was once again silent.