The Seasonwife

Feels, Bridie does, the spirit of herself wakening. A song under her, an ancient walking song, a cold, dark path song, a wending home to the hearth song. Always she has felt it, the unstoppable surge of it, the urge to wander to places secret, hidden from merchants and traders and hunters and missionary men, from all the struggling women and children, from all the toffs and pretenders and all the matters of business. . . It's 1832 on an isolated coast on the South Island of New Zealand. A l...