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An early morning, a long day, and a late night. And now to bed.
She was somewhat cheered to have Leafa nearby, and to have had a visit from Bella. Although truth be told, she barely knew them.
How she missed her brother, and how she missed Raefindan. And...
She pulled the covers up tightly around her chin, and squeezed her eyes shut.
How gentle he had been, lifting her chin with one careful finger, so that she had to look into his eyes. Those green eyes; like the leaves in August, rich and strong, shimmering, moving in the wind.
She opened her eyes, and shifted, and closed them again, brushing a lock of hair away from her face. Her hand, passing across her cheek, touched a place that was too smooth. Her scar. Only it wasn't a scar; it was baby-new skin. Marigold had treated her.
But before they had arrived at Marigold's house, Ravion had treated it first; cleaned it, salved it, and dressed it, all with that gentle touch, and with trouble and concern in those forest-green eyes.
She dreamt of woodlands, and trees, and loving eyes; healing hands, the caress of water; a golden voice, the laughter of the sun-filled stream. At first. But then the woods turned cold, and the leaves fell, and the more she looked for friendly eyes, the more she saw the sun glaring off the ice. She stumbled along in her dreams, her hand warding off the glare, her feet colder and colder, her hands stiffening. She struggled on, searching for the caring eyes, the cheering voice, the healing touch; the cold stones cut her feet, the ice tore at her hands, and the silence burdened her struggling heart.
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