Dahozhoni Meadow Here where I once

he searches for sangre still.

nino would not permit her memory to fade peacefully, as some other ghosts had.

on his walk he thinks of many of them. their faces. their moods. the things they enjoyed and the things they hated. how at once they had been so vividly part of his life, and now they were but ghosts, soon to be lost to the fading of his own leaking memory.

he ranges along the meadows to the north. there's no hope of sangre here, but as he scents the snow he sees the footsteps of another. one deep breath of crisp snow and fragrant winter lily and he knows.

safiya.

his little pearl.

soto's steps quicken.