Lena
and sweetest in the gale is heard
and sore must be the storm
and sore must be the storm
While Mittens shook its snowball head and retreated into Lena’s coattails, the Caretaker lifted her chin to the sky, eager to feel the pitter-patter of raindrops. It reminded her of things – better days, maybe, of racing across the rocky plaza with her sister, barefoot in the showers, splashing about with no rhyme or reason. Impulse, the boldness of youth, before anything else faltered and flickered, before barriers fell, before they knew the price of the Voice and her freedom.
But the reassurances seemed to do enough, and she turned her head back to Sohalia with the same light grin on her face. “Almost like magic?” She laughed, knowing better – for Stormbreak would never have allowed the distinctions near their shoreline. And though she had no druthers against the adornments of such enchantments, others weren’t so keen. “Hopefully you’ll figure it all out. But be patient with yourself.” Her shoulders shrugged, climbing up to her ears before settling back down. “Things like that take time.”
But the reassurances seemed to do enough, and she turned her head back to Sohalia with the same light grin on her face. “Almost like magic?” She laughed, knowing better – for Stormbreak would never have allowed the distinctions near their shoreline. And though she had no druthers against the adornments of such enchantments, others weren’t so keen. “Hopefully you’ll figure it all out. But be patient with yourself.” Her shoulders shrugged, climbing up to her ears before settling back down. “Things like that take time.”
that could abash the little bird
that kept so many warm
that kept so many warm
