Moonspear you were never made to fly

As he spoke, she gradually settled, though the thrumming in her chest did not cease. How long had he been there? How much had he seen? She retreated further from the edge but was careful not to lessen the space between them, weary still of his being there. But he spoke of her sister—her elder sister, not the twin she’d lost—and that helped put her further at ease, as did the reason for his being there named concern. For her? She was doubtful but said nothing, and convinced herself that she shouldn’t give it too much thought. He was with her sister, after all, his concern was only an extension of hers and nothing more.

“I’m… I’m fine,” she answered carefully, mindful of her words. Even with how slowly she adjusted her tone, it was likely obvious to anyone and everyone that she most definitely was not fine. Her parents had only just died and she herself wondered if it was possible that she could be next, if she could join them. “Do they… do the dead…” she struggled to piece her words together, a lump forming in her throat. “Do they remember us?” Would they be happy to see me?