Fairspell Meadow of little wings of white-flamed butterflies in my brain

He was quiet, as always, but it was a heavier silence than what he usually carried with him. Even with Maegi trying to rouse something from him did not amount to much: he heard her, flicking his ears, but he did not say anything for a long few moments which felt like they stretched on and on. The truth of it was, Sobek did not know how to react to the loss of his brother. He had been there - and then he had been crushed, gone. The sound of that tree collapsing played over and over in his head; the gasp, the shock as things settled, the look on his mother's face and her yowling voice as she had been pierced with the sudden loss -- all of these things repeated in his head, but he did not know why. He missed his brother, but he didn't feel anything at the same time. Sobek was numb the way Maegi was numb, but it was more than that.

When he finally speaks his voice is lacking emotion, which is typical but seems more grave now in the cold and soggy world. He doesn't look up at Maegi as he speaks but he is loud enough for his little voice to carry, saying, If we find shelter, will Anansi be there? Sobek was old enough, and smart enough even at his limited age, to know that he was being stupid for asking - dredging up the fresh hurt with his desire to see Anansi again. It was unfair. But for now he sank in to the feigned ignorance of youth, finding comfort there.