There's just one thing I know about girls: be they new or old, neiads or Norns, they all like delicate fresh flowers, especially the kind with thorns. Petal soft skin and leaves crisp like silk, perfume scented, faces turned to light. And one more trait held in common: they're each one dying upright. Picked quick sliced off by the bucketfull, then jammed into jars, vases and horns. Yes, I know this one thing about them, especially the kind with thorns.