Swiftcurrent Creek turquoise

The challenging stare she gave him as she laughed at his words—insisting this was not to happen to her. And yet the dark shadow that had crossed her fierce countenance before when she spoke of a love gone—he knew better.

The seed of grief had been planted—she would force it away. She could laugh, she could fight. Hone her skill. But he knew…

Youth and pride often went hand in hand—and as she laughed at him, his own smile grew—darker than hers, a slow nod given as he took a step back from her, back down the trail in which she had lined with bones—now, he knew, another farce in which she meant to prove her ferocity. “Then why are you still here?”

If she cared that no one here died—why, then, did she stay?

He took his leave with that—the coming of summer air thicker in this moment than most.