“The vivid memory of the woods had blossomed into a visceral longing for the Ridge, so immediate that I felt the ghost of my vanished house rise around me, a cold mountain wind thrumming past its walls, and thought that, if I reached down, I could feel Adso's soft gray fur under my fingers. I swallowed, hard.” LossMemoryNostalgiaClaire FraserAdso Book:Written in My Own Heart's Blood Source: Written in My Own Heart's Blood