Both Hazel and Frank yearned for winter to be over. Hazel spent her days drawing inside or tending her sheep, but she missed taking them out to pasture and spending time with Frank. Her flock ate bales of hay that her family had dried during the summer.

The chill deepened and more snow fell, blanketing the landscape in white. It was too cold to be outside long for no longer — even with a cloak on. Hazel won't more of her time by the fire, trying to keep warm.

The letters they received from Bianca were the only blip in their new routine. The first was a short missive that just stated that she had gotten safely to the temple and been accepted. Soon, these letters became the most exciting part of the day and when Hades opened a new letter, one evening, everyone crowded around him. "What does it say?" Nico asked eagerly.

Bianca wrote letters just for him, but he gobbled up any news about her. Hades cleared his throat and began reading. "My family, the goddess becomes dearer to me with each day. Life on the farm has, surprisingly enough, prepared me well for being a priestess. We do a lot of cleaning and I'm better at it than most of my peers."

    "I bet she is!" Maria interjected. "She always sweet the floors so well."

   Nico and Hazel exchanged glances.

     "The head priestess is a lady named Zoe," Hades continued. "Her betrothed left her fur another woman, so she became a priestess instead. She says that she has never looked back. She's taken me into the flock and helped me adjust to my new life. When I'm with her, I think of you, mother."

   "I've become close to Zoe," Hades read, "but I have also made friends with a girl named Phoebe. There's another girl named Thalia who doesn't get along with Zoe. I don't get why, considering they have the same passion in life, but that's the main source of drama in the temple. Mostly, it's peaceful."

    "We clean the shrines constantly," Hades said, "but that's the least interesting of our duties. We are also called to preside over sacrifices and purify people. I've learned so many hymns to the goddess and she's even visited me in my dreams. I wish I could tell you more. I'll write to you later."

     "Wow," Hazel said. "It sounds like she is enjoying life."

   Nico nodded, his eyes sad as his lips stretched into a smile. "She's found a new family," he said in a small voice.

   Maria turned to her son and kissed him on the forehead. "You'll always be her brother," she said, "and nothing can replace that."

    Nico nodded, but his eyes were now glassy with tears. "Well," Hades said. "It looks like I need to write a reply. Who would like to help me?"

    "Tell her about the Dionysia," Nico suggested.

    "And how Nico played Achilles," Hazel added. "And how great his delivery was."

    "I think I'll mention both of those things," Hades said.

    "And remind her to keep sending us letters," Maria added. "We love them."

     Hades smiled at his wife and bent down to begin writing.

***

    While Hazel learned of Bianca, Frank's grandmother told him a story of his birth. "When your mother was in childbirth," she said. "Her only midwife was myself. Your father was away at war and the labor was lasting so long. I tried the herbal remedies, but they didn't work. I tried praying to my ancestors and the gods of this land, but the labor stretched from one day into another."

     Frank listened to the story in rapt wonder. Truthfully, his mother had never told him much about his earliest years besides how cute he was or how his first word was "goat." "Finally," his grandmother continued, "the contractions began to get closer. Your mother was exhausted at this point. She had fallen asleep a couple times in labor and woken up again."

      "Then, you came but with your heels first," Frank's grandmother said. "The birth was hard on both of you and when I held you in my arms, wiping off the umbilical fluid, I marveled at how tiny you were. Your mother was bleeding a lot and I worried of infection. Then, I saw how you had been born feet first and I worried that you wouldn't make it either."

     Frank blinked. It was strange hearing these stories for the first time. "Your mother recovered, but slowly. Your first winter, you caught a fever. Your forehead was burning like a forge and none of us could sleep with your wails piercing the air."

     "Your mother gave you herbal remedies," Frank's grandmother continued. "She took you to the local physician. She put damp cloth against your burning brow. Nothing helped and I could see my daughter wearing herself out looking for you. I told her she needed to take some rest or you'd both be sick."

     Frank nodded. "Well, your mother demurred, but she finally fell asleep out of sheer exhaustion," his grandmother said. "And I took you in my arms that night and rocked you with my pens arms. And you know what I told you?"

     "That I was a strong boy?" Frank suggested.

     His grandmother shook her head. "I told you that you'd make it because your grandmother said so."

    She looked at Frank and a smile spread over her weathered face. "Your fever broke that night. Your mother wept that morning — we both did — because we knew that you'd make it."

   Frank stared at her, digesting all of this new information. Many children died young, but it wasn't until this moment that he realized how special he was to his family. He was his mother's only child and his grandmother's only grandchild. He would be their staff in old age, but he had nearly not made his first year. It had been his grandmother, his strict grandmother, who had helped his mother care for him and given him the will to live as a baby. He leaned over and hugged his grandmother, thanking her for the quiet love she showed him.