Coconut Grove Your anger is frightening the sand

the utter relief she felt was visible. her shoulders rose and she herself nearly smiled, but the incident was too severe and worrisome for her features to move in such a manner. deirdre could have wept, so glad she was--and it was then he said a name, her fathers name, and she tilted her head. my father, she hummed, smiling--it was good to know this man was a friend of her adored father, good to know that she could help such a man, for she wondered how many her father loved out in the world. that she might aid one pleased her, as he had done so much for her as her father, her guide, her teacher.

his muzzle fell into her feathery neck, but she did not wince or flinch. judging his movements, every bit of them, she had expected some lack of control in his coming to her. she, not a small girl, but full, a woman in appearance [though a gaunt one, thanks to hunger], did what she could to support him. despite her adult stature, he still was larger than she. there is no need to be sorry. come, she instructed, and moved with the inky stranger every bit of the way home. she played the part of the scaffold when necessary, lending herself at all times to him when he stumbled.