Swiftcurrent Creek silver ribbons

I figured we could wrap it here, but if you want anything changed just let me know!!

There was no Rose to color her vision this time. No Bjarna to soften the blow with her hints of familiarity. The golden girl's family had long since learned it was best not to speak much to her when she was like this. After those first days, those terrible days, her parents screaming at her, her siblings pleading with her — after that, they spoke little to her, and softly. Her parents hadn't spoken to her at all.
Lestan had no such reservations. While Reverie was remembering the fire, the way even the smallest of creatures had shrieked like Rose had, he was speaking. A different name in a different voice, in a place too cold for fire.
It was too cold for fire.
Lestan, with an air of gentle insistence; that was all she knew for a moment. It was a shock, like stepping into cold water, but she still felt disconnected and displaced. This wasn't home. Why wasn't it home? Why couldn't she remember?
What... what's happening? What's wrong with me?
Had she said that aloud? She remembered again that she wasn't alone. Lestan, close enough to touch; she hadn't noticed that he had touched her. Why did he still seem so far away? Maybe he hadn't heard her at all, if she'd said it. If she'd said...
What did I just say? What's happening to me?
They were going to Kvarsheim, weren't they? He'd said they were. She thought he did. Or was that Bjarna?
I think I remember the way. She looked at him, uncertain again if she'd spoken. Had she meant to speak? No. No, she would just... she would do what she was told. She could do that. She could act normal. Or so she thought.
So she started to lead him away from the trees, retracing her steps without much effort. She had spent most of her life doing just that in The Gilded Sea; it was as natural as breathing by now. Occasionally she would stop and look at him, as if she meant to say something. But she didn't. Not for several hours.