Dragoncrest Cliffs Arowana

She knew it before he said it. And she realized then, how it had been perhaps more cruel of her, than anything, to have set the bird free the day she'd found it with its foot wedged between two pieces of driftwood. She'd fed it, made it accustomed to her presence, but she'd thought perhaps it would trust only her. She'd spared it a death, but had brought one upon it still; and she felt both helpless and useless all at once. 

She burrowed her nose into the crook of her forelimbs and for some time, sobbed. She trusted Quennell, but eventually she wanted to see for herself, and when she rose to look and confirm the leg for herself, she found herself flooded with grief once more, and clutched the bird close to her, carefully and gently, crying into its soft feathers. 

When she caught her breath a bit, she spoke, though her voice trembled. "I saved 'im. 'E had his foot stuck, one day, an' I set 'im free...An' since den, 'e be watchin' over me, sharing bits of my food." She said. 

Tu deviens responsable pour toujours de ce que tu as apprivoisé.

She didn't know the expression, but if she had, she would have realized its meaning. 

"I t'ought if I forgave 'im, per'aps de ot'er bird would bring Requiem back...An' den we found 'im, an I thought...but...Now dis bird, e....'E be gone too." Her mother's lessons about the sea giving and taking had never been more true than they were now.