The usual disclaimers. This is a work of fanfic, not intended to entrench on any parties registered copyright interests. With apologies to Joss Whedon, Sei Shonagon, and all other sources whose brilliance inspired this work. Thanks to Mai and Robin for slogging through this chapter with me.

Authors Note: The events of this and all subsequent entries take place roughly one year before the end of the Second War for Independence, thus they occur before PBIS, Part I: Book of Words. The opening pillow book entry dates back to Inara’s time on Serenity. This is a bit long and I had issues posting it. The second half of this installment is posted separately.

1. In Spring It Is the Dawn

In spring it is the dawn that is the most beautiful. As the light creeps over the sill, cherry blossoms are cast in shadows upon my wall, dyed a faint red which grows richer and deeper in color as the sun rises - a sure sign of passion to come.

In summer the nights. Not only when the moon shines, but on the dark nights too. Chinese lanterns light the paths. Cool breezes blow, a relief after the heat of the day. We lounge in the gardens dressed in light silks, which caress our skin, and gossip about nothing. The sounds of feminine laughter fill the air and the gravel crunches with the steps of clients.

In autumn the evenings, when the glittering sun sinks close to the edge of the hills, the crows fly back to their nests in threes and fours and twos. The House Priestess warned me once, that a crow in your home is unlucky. It portends death. Still, I like to go to my window with strips in my hands and call to them. They fly over and gather the meat from my palms, carrying it back to the nest. I lick the savory juices from my fingers. Do they find it spicy too? It is odd how something so large and fierce-looking could be so gentle. Where the House Priestess sees a murder carrying death on its wings, I see a family.

In winter the early mornings, the sun blinds as its light reflects off of the snow. Be