SHARON’S POVI never imagined the day would come when I’d be inspecting a nursery. It was not one built in fear or secrecy, not a place I had to hide my children in, but a real nursery. Safe. Warm. Sunlit. The kind I used to dream about when I was pregnant and thought the world would welcome my twins with open arms.Instead of the arms of the cold wilderness.Morris’s staff had outdone themselves. The room was painted in soft cream and pale gold, with hand-carved shelves shaped like crescent moons along the walls. A plush white rug covered most of the floor, and in the center stood two new cribs, sturdy and elegant, each carved with tiny wolf sigils. A rocking chair rested in one corner, and a cushioned bench in the other.I walked around slowly, touching things almost reverently.“It looks perfect,” I said.As soon as the words left my mouth, the staff, who had been waiting in the hallway, began streaming inside with the rest of the equipment. A double stroller, soft blankets, little
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