Sawtooth Spire But time makes you bolder

He pulled away as he spoke, and her eyes searched his face. That seemed like one of her most frustrating weaknesses—she was too easy on those who possessed a piece of her heart, whether she wanted them to or not. It was why she had forgiven Sia so many times, and forgiven Stigmata, and it was why she comforted Mahler now when doing so broke open the scab over the wound on her heart caused by his rejection. Probably, she said, though she was truly teasing. But it is the truth. She was sure of that. No one deserved to lose a child. 

Whatever had been on her face before he spoke again vanished, replaced by sadness. Anger flared in her heart as she considered his question. Where exactly would she have found such happiness? While she was dying in a cave or healing in a pack that still didn't feel like home no matter how much she wished it did? Maybe while she was tortured over her decision to leave Stag again or stay here and be unhappy just to be with her son? She gave a huff of sad laughter and looked away, her anger dying out quickly and leaving the familiar hollow feeling in its wake. I've come to just accept that happiness isn't something I'll ever find, she admitted. She had never said it out loud, and she immediately wished she hadn't. It gave him a view into her mind that she tried to keep from others. But she hadn't been able to hold the words back. Maybe it was because he had shown her vulnerability as well. Or maybe because feelings had a way of coming out no matter how hard you tried to ignore them. Whatever the reason, she let the words hang between them, refusing to look at him.