Hoshor Plains Dixie Chicks

As hopeful as she wished to be, as eager as Ibis could become at the potential reunion of her scattered family, this time things were different. Maybe it was her maturity in the face of yet another loss—maybe she had walled off too many pieces of her heart by this point, but whatever the reason, she did not have the same outlook as Reiko. Still, having someone try to lift her spirits was a blessing and Ibis was thankful for that.

Sarah. Olive. Seabreeze — and Okeanos, Reiko adds, unaware of the girl's internalized recitation. Ibis nods, but cannot summon a smile or even a glimmer of hope for her lost brother. They had survived the winter without him and now they would survive the spring, too.

Are you going to stay here, with Ira? Ibis asks next, drifting the topic away from loss and closer to something more immediate. By the lackluster tone of her voice and subtle glance to the endlessness of the prairie around them, she looked like a lost lamb. I... I don't want to lose anyone else, Reiko. So if you stay, I'll stay with you. If you go, I want to go.

She felt a warmth in her breast, a fluttering that melted in to her belly and twisted the already nervous, knotted thing in to a fresh bundle of chaos. It wasn't a proclaimation of love or anything, but Ibis felt exposed after blurting it out.