Sawtooth Spire zweiter teil

his loving look was returned, though her eyes lingered on her father's grizzled aspect long after he had deflected. "sounds like help to me," she decided warmly after a beat, letting the bluebell drop from the cradleing of her paw. 

stag’s name froze her. if for no other reason than his constancy, her memories with the sandraudiga were most salient of them all, and he so very beloved to her; so very missed. her willing stooge, always. until he wasn't. the girl's throat burned, but she would not cry in the solemn fort of her childhood.

she glanced about the fallows, discreetly wicking her tears, and all she could muster in response was lame: “yeah, he was good at this stuff.”

she moved off to continue her investigation of the different flowers, bearing his question in mind as she walked a circle 'round the maidenly garden.

no! 
was the verdict in her head;
it only makes me feel lonely.

hers was a soreness best kept private. 

but farming wasn't something she'd heard of before and the girl couldn't help the curious shift in her expression, near pleading, "what is it? farming."