Claire waited patiently while her father explained what the pile of wood was for; her expression shifted incrementally from curious to concerned (and she threaded her pigtail gently through her right hand as if to soothe it). "Okay, Dad," Claire said softly (when he was finished speaking). "So, you're going to put up a fence around the entire backyard using wood you bought at the store." Her father laughed. "Yes, Claire, that's the plan." "Not yet it's not," she responded. "I'm going to have to talk to the trees. I want you to promise me that you won't start digging or anything yet." "Honey ... ," her father started, but she put her tiny hand up. "Dad, you do NOT want to mess this up. I promise." Her eyes flashed with warning, and she stepped down from the deck onto the grass with grave purpose. He looked out at the yard, surprised to find it shadier ... darker ... than he expected for such a bright afternoon.