The Sentinels honey and sulfur

the girl looked to her father, the rain lapping her tears away and yet adding to them tenfold. that her father spoke not of the white savage cast a stone of fear into her heart. was he so afraid of her, too, that he could not speak of her? he spoke at last of being unable to find tachyon, and a sob shook her. he who could do all, her father, could not do this! why? she croaked, her favored question. her fear of him morphed into anger, and then into sadness, and she was spent. her ears pricked at his question, and she stared at him. to know love was truly out of her depth, and to articulate it was an impossibility. i love you, she spoke at last, i love emaleth. i love mother. i love eilidh. i love casmir. i love tachyon. love was simple for a child, who had few reasons for doing it, but did so unconditionally to those that had earned their heart. tachyon had been present in dark times, and she had permitted him to be because he had made himself a presence in her life early on. to question it was curious, but here was her answer.