Ankyra Sound river turns to dust

She takes a few steps closer, and his eyes make her breath catch. Why, he asks, but all she can do is stare for a moment.
My sister, She answers, voice thick, and swallows. There's a faint tremble to her limbs now, perhaps not because of the cold. She was here, once; I caught the last traces of her scent almost a fortnight ago. There's more she wants to say, but everything dies on the tip of her tongue. She can't pour her heart to a stranger, one whose face is still slightly hazy through the fog.
She has eyes like yours, She murmurs finally, barely audible, and her chest aches.