Hushed Willows [m] Never gonna allocate all of this dark hate

Reverie thanked her, and Wayfarer's expression softened. She took in the perfection of her face, gilded and kissed by Winter sunlight, the way it reflected in the warmth of her eyes. It was unfortunate that the new Coach was so plagued by uncertainty, because she had so much to offer Hearthwood. Wayfarer had seen it herself, the way she could light others up.

The conversation shifted toward herself, unexpectedly, and the glow she felt lost herself momentarily in the sunflower shade of her companion's gaze was promptly snuffed out. Cold crept it's way into her being, seeping deep into the marrow of her bones and daring the pierce the very heart of her.

She thought of what Duskfire Glacier could've been and recalled the failures of her parents: her mother, too focused on herself to provide and her father, stupid enough to challenge one of Mother Nature's storms. For a long time she'd been angry over them, mourning the family she deserved but never experienced, but as she matured she carried only the dull ache of disappointment.

It was fine, she lied, though her words were flat as she glanced away; her heart gave an uncomfortable lurch as she thought of Veteran. Nothing special. The rain did freeze often. We moved from there after my father died, but I decided to carry on by myself not long after.