Hushed Willows A Silent Retreat

There was a smoldering to Kirain that had appeared doused in her exhaustion. Wake saw now that there was a fire inside her that refused to be snuffed out, and he would be glad to feed it oxygen and shield the flames from rainfall.

Some do not survive such hurt, the snowtreader debated in that gentle, narcotic way he spoke. Some do lie down and never rise again. They wither until it is too late to recover, or they end it swiftly. Did she know the feeling of standing on the edge, overlooking the nothingness of open air, preparing to jump? Some choose not to follow their instincts. They disregard the Rhythm, and it is a craven thing to do. Cowards.

The choice to press on, to rise each day and do what needed to be done, was a brave thing in Wake’s mind, even if it was not in Kirain’s. It was a decision as much as it was impulse, and she had chosen right.

He filed away her virtues and knowledge, keen to see her proficiency expanded. I know of at least one pack with healers in their midst. I cannot guarantee they will share their wisdom, but I should like to introduce you, when you have gathered your strength.