Noctisardor Bypass Soft blue skies, helium balloons float up, away

Wylla had no choice but to trust everything Heda said. Her eye was not trained to track birds in the trees. Even when her little great-niece pointed them out, it took Wylla several long seconds to spot them, and then she had to wonder how the girl was able to tell them apart. The woodpecker and the sparrow looked practically the same to Wylla's gaze. At least the bluebird was a little more distinct.

How do you know it's a mom? she asked about the sparrow, squinting at the little brown bird in the trees while Heda spoke of carbinals. Wylla didn't know any better, and assumed that was exactly what they were called. I've seen those before, she shared. Sometimes they landed on the ground to pick up errant seeds. A carbinal. They have black faces and pointy little heads.

Heda asked a question next, breaking Wylla's concentration on the trees and causing her gut to bubble with sudden anxiety. She had many fears, most of them surrounding her death and not many of those were appropriate to tell a child about. Maybe appropriate wasn't the right word. More like, there would be more questions than answers.

Being alone, she decided. It was more complicated than simply being alone — Wylla was alone all the time, more often than she was in anyone's company, and was learning to be more comfortable alone than together — but she couldn't very well tell Heda that she was afraid when she died, there would be no one beside her and no one who cared. It was too much to burden a kid with. It sucks to be alone, right?

A little shudder crept up her back and she added, and sharks. You've probably never heard of sharks?