Qeya River Sing for the hill

you should have.

but she did not want him gone truly. she only thought he might — she thought of what he might look like free. if he might find his son, if he might find the missing wren and silvertongue. her eyes closed and it was his happiness she imagined.

she could not dream of her own.

she felt lost in his side. as if she might melt into his furs and blend them into one. she might have allowed herself to be freed back into sleep like this if his voice did not come to her again.

stone crier, there is no pride. only the stating of something as simple as fact. what has he named you? he would always be ksura to her. he would always be the joyful man she had shown a hidden cove to.