This is a very bloody chapter. I wonder if spending so much time on it is altering my perception of the universe. It's a difficult chapter, too, as you may've surmised from the fact that eight dedicated hours didn't produce a finished page. I feel like I took for granted all time they spent on the Raithuras just talking.
My mother's house has recently gotten some additional rooms added on. On the bottom floor is one that essentially extends the dining room into a little peninsula where the back porch used to be. I stood in there looking out at the half dead lawn, thinking about the different incarnations of that backyard, and then thought further back to other backyards I knew as a kid. I noticed the further back I thought, the more intimately I felt I knew the backyard. Backyards mean more to kids, I guess.
Anyway, I felt a moment's selfish irritation that adults around me have always been so eager to change aspects of their living situations; especially when nothing ends up being improved, and some old thing is in the process lost.
Well, I suppose that's some rather useless sentimentality. I have cartoon blood to spill...