Porcupine Ridge All children, except one, grow up.

this subject was just as much of a minefield—perhaps more—to her as it was to him. he shouldn't have brought it up. he shouldn't have said anything. he shifted uneasily at the words regarding pema, remembering that dawn had said she'd vanished. dead, or gone? his own mother had done the same; only a spirit had given him the actual truth of the matter.

then she questioned him, and aditya drew in a tremulous breath, shaking his head. they disbanded, a few moons after the fire, he replied, wondering if she even remembered the blaze and the events of that horrible day. it had claimed her father, after all. he also conveniently omitted the part where he, you know, left them before they fell apart.

she didn't need to know everything. it would be nice not to be seen as a total fuck-up by at least one former morningsider.

your mother cared about you, adi added, feeling a compulsion to defend his friend. things just went wrong. who knows what happened. i don't even know where she is. and it left a hollowness in his stomach to even contemplate the possibilities.