I was five, maybe six when I first saw the swans. I remember because Roja was still having her tantrums, so she couldn`t have been older than four. Our parents were trying to train them out of her, our mother by clutching her arm when she wailed for more than a few minutes, our father by crouching to meet her eyes and talking in a voce that was low, and neither harsh nor gentle.
"You can scream and cry if you want," he said. "But what you have in you is power."
His words were so level and sure, they made Roja quiet. Her tears froze on her cheeks.
"You let it wring you and throw you around like you`re a doll," Papa said. "And if that`s all you let it do, you`ll be a fool forever. Because that power, that anger in you, that is the best thing you have." He gave her a nod as proud as if she were a son. "So claim it. Pick yourself up and use it."