[se] for a long time ahead

Melita

I never had a chance to be soft
I was always bloody knuckles

With Phoebe returned to a standing position, Melita yielded her strength, and then went back to the dropped logs. Snagging a bundle in her arms, she continued on the same pathways, bare feet placed over the sand, the rest of her mind struggling to surmise what to even say. Perhaps an entire subject change, as she frowned, brows knitting together, not glancing back at Phoebe. “Are you in Torchline long?” Uncertain how the Nightingale might have been traversing – likely the skyport – in between her other duties in Stormbreak.

Then she encountered a particularly nasty, stubborn piece of driftwood, ensnaring, wrapping her fingers around its smoothed bramble and branch sticking out of the dunes, but to no avail. A sneer and a snarl was nearly coaxed across her features, but there was probably a growl there instead, as Fangorn came over to assist.

and shards of glass
I wanted people to be afraid of hurting me