Ankyra Sound Judah sees a ghost

Blossom’s heart, soft as a rabbit and just as easily harmed, crawls from its burrow as the boy joins her. The dry croak of a throat wrenched with salt and sorrow, a mirror of her own.

Why do we hurt each other? She whispers to the wind. The spectre is her silent wall, a mirror she can speak to and listen for an answer she thinks will never come.

Why does anyone become mean? Why is the world cruel? The sea, tossing both of their furs.

Why is it so beautiful, but so cruel?