Gentle. Firm. Melori doesn't resist, just lets it go, fingers loose at her sides.
"I'm fine." Voice cracking. "I'm completely fine. It's just a building. Buildings burn all the time. People rebuild. That's what people do. They rebuild."
Everyone can see it. Pack members have stopped what they're doing. The hens peck at scattered grain around her boots.
Her hands won't stop moving.
"Come on." Kestria's arm slides around her shoulders. "Let's go sit down."
"I don't need to sit down. I need to feed the chickens."
"I'll feed them."
"But the rotation—"
"Mel."
Silence. Swallowing hard. Her hands clenching, unclenching.
Then, small—so fucking small—
"I want to see it."
"No." The word lands heavy.
She looks at me. Eyes wet. Jaw set. Stubborn.
"Please."
That word.
Shouldn't. Not safe. Not smart.
I look at her, really look. Bright blue, wet at the corners, fixed on mine and not letting go. The whole impossible woman in one stubborn upward stare.
I exhale. Long. Drag my palm down my beard.
The trail's already mapping itself in my head. Who covers the council. How fast we can ride there and back. I'm not even fighting it.
That's the part that should worry me.
She says please and the answer's already yes.
"Just us. I'll take you."
Kestria's watching me.
"Go get your baskets. We'll gather what survived."
She nods. Turns. Walks away. Too steady. Spine straight, shoulders locked.
"Brother."
"Don't."
"I wasn't going to say anything."
"Your face is saying plenty."
