Porcupine Ridge All children, except one, grow up.

too much reminiscent of his own mother. at her tears, his own gaze blurred, and he blinked, swallowing hard. it took a few moments for his throat to relax before he could speak again. i don't know, bachchi, aditya whispered, shaking his head. you would think so, but. . .things often don't turn out like they should. i don't know why she left you with no way to find her.

for pema's sake, he hoped the woman was alive—but for her daughter's, as terrible a thought it was, he hoped she was not.

her sentiment brought a small, sad smile to his mouth. being on your own is often very lonely, adi murmured. you make friends where you can, and try to stay close to them. without a home base, though, you have no roots. he tilted his head slightly in query, for he had realized there was a place with roots for her, at least.

your old family lives in a place called elysium, down in the willows at the foot of the mountains, he said, nodding in that direction. your cousin, sunny, and some others from morningside are there. they would be happy to see you—will you join them? even if he couldn't—wouldn't—he hoped she did.