Jade Fern Grove If only I had strength to change your mind

His invitation rushed her with a strange sort of tingle - it was one thing that the question had been on her mind, another that he had asked her without the prompt from her first. Yet the look he gave her - or rather, stole away from her - pricked along the edge of her nerves and she shifted her weight.

Her want to say yes faltered at his question. "My father?" she hadn't expected that, nor did she notice her tongue slip. Had she ever mentioned her father to Siarut? Other than that he hailed from the North, she couldn't remember, and truly didn't have much to say of him apart from that. "No. I haven't seen him since last summer. I don't know where he is. I grew up without him." For some reason, the acknowledgement made her throat catch, and she swallowed the emotion with a swift and practised ease. They'd exchanged their forgiveness in the forest when the heat of August soaked through the shadows of the land, but that encounter hadn't been planned.

She loved her father, but he was an enigma, and that was what he would always be to her. A memory - but Siarut's words confused her. "I don't understand. Is he here with you?" He brow remained furrowed and she, unconvinced. The ice bear dangled something before her. She just couldn't comprehend what.