Stavanger Bay Your compliments look good on me

The den seemed very empty without him.
Reverie occupied her time with caring for Blossom, but in the space between, she found herself in the bed she shared with her husband. His scent was still heavy there, and if she closed her eyes, she could almost pretend that he hadn't left. That he was only gone for a little while, to hunt perhaps, and soon he would return. It was much different than when she'd been traveling; she knew where he was then, and that she could see him any time she wanted.
Now there was only uncertainty, and guilt. She had let Lestan leave, enabled it — and for what? To chase false hope? Waste more of their limited time together? Reverie was dying; nothing could change that. Or maybe — maybe she could have changed it, if only she'd been stronger. If she wasn't so afraid of the fire.
She spent a long time watching the rain fall. Eventually, she slept.