Moonspear The future in my heart

she had stumbled back on stiffened legs. desdemona brought home to rest, and now, here, the guardian who had provided a vigil after the trader's death —

so much of it, so much that the duck had found no words yet for a spirit-song, a chant that might bear each of them away. and now more to come, her inner heart whispered, for she saw the line of keres' figure, saw the proud muzzle tipped to hydra, and blinked in the snowfall.

tears haunting the green-gaze that had only just dried. "keres," the only pair of syllables the duck could muster before she only reached for the valkyrie and silently begged for the wisdom to know a deep medicine, racking her brain for names and stores and muffled memories of herbs.