Whitebark Stream Don't drag me along to your slaughterhouse.

Daylily’s ears pulled back along her skull when Artyom confided in her that his family had suffered a loss. She looked down and away, unsure of what to say in the face of such sorrow. She had never known anyone who had died, at least not when she’d still been at Oakstead. Suddenly she was filled with fear that perhaps someone from her homeland had died after she had left. How would she know about it if they had? Would they send someone to go and look for her, to tell her? She shivered thinking about it. It was a horrible thought, a horrible feeling. 

“I’m sorry,” she said, so quietly that perhaps he wouldn’t even hear her. She tried to remain positive, as always, tried to shake off the feeling that had seeped down into her bones. “Maybe…” she began, shaking her head. “Maybe you will find new family here. Not to replace the one you lost, but… to help heal the wound.” She shook her head again, not knowing if her words were the right words, or enough. She glanced up at him with sad, searching eyes, and then looked away again, feeling as if she had intruded on something private.