Firefly Glen these broken walls

what good was a mother if she could not protect her children?

she had failed her son, she would not fail her daughters.

fear raced through her blood. fear of hate, fear of rejection, fear of losing a child in more ways than just death. she tensed under the assumption they would have questions, that they would wish to know the details.

but each girl was silent, and this brought about it's own pool of emotions.

to anatolia she surged forward with gentle touches to try and soothe the girl. to zephyra she saw hesitancy, and her features twinged with sorrow. so young! they should not know grief this young!

she moved to pull her daughters into an embrace should they let her, clutching to them with such ferocity that she might steal away what heartache they felt.

"we will be ok," she spoke this just the three of them. to anatolia. to zephyra. to herself.

they would be ok. she would make it so.

---

she would hold her daughters until they no longer wished her to do so. be it minutes, hours, or days, she would support the weight of them entirely.

and when it came time for them to release from their shared embrace, she would move with gentle strokes to brush away what tears might latch themselves to any of them.

"we are leaving this place. there is only misery for us here." she had decided it, and so it would be.

"we will go somewhere new. where this sadness will not restrain us."

she looked to each of her girls, allowing them room to speak if they decided against her words. if neither contended her decision, she would help them steady themselves before guiding them to cole for the journey to the valley.