Women. They were so...annoying. Yes. That's it. Fickle as the wind. Mad one moment, happy the rest. And then they expected the men to keep up with them. He rolled his eyes.
"Poor Mellonin."
"She's taking everything too hard," said Aeron. "If he dies, he dies....everybody dies. It has to happen sooner or later." Yes. That was it. Women didn't like the truth.
"I can see my grave would not have been watered by your tears," said Gwyllion, scowling.
"I also think it silly to mope about mourning for the dead," said Aeron. "Like you have for our father. The dead do not return, no matter how hard you cry."
Gwyllion stopped, her eyebrows carved in a viscious frown, and said, "You do not know if our father is dead!"
Trying to deny the truth as usual. What was it with her. "He is not coming back!" he shouted.
"He is too!"
"Well, then why hasn't he come back after all these blasted years, Gwyll! Either he's dead or he hates us. I think it is the latter and I don't care if I never see him again."
"You are despicable."
Gwyllion spat at him and then trotted over talk with Raefindan. What was wrong with her? She was living and dwelling in the past like a fool. She could waste away her life for all her cared.
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