Slipping in, continued

The goose was well-connected in the ways between extinction and the prevailings. Nene came to know the deepest of instincts. She heard the soul's softest voice and learned echolacution; she could bounce the softest voice against itself. For company. Soothing the biggest and the tiny beings fearful of that commonest dread: "No one will remember, no one will miss me when I die" the large rare Hawaiian goose found her calling.

When the Woman first met Nene she, the Woman, was masked against an untrustable world. A large rare goose with hinged feet and tail caused a circuit to splinter.

"Your hinges made it all slip," the Woman sputtered. Tears big and sloppy joined the flow from her nose.

"The bells?" Nene was curious to know why her mountain bells had no effect.

"Oh, Yama bells and I go  back a long, long before-fear ago. Yes, I knew I could love you. But still, it was the hinges that told me you'd been broken. I could trust you."