“Comforting structure. Did you rehearse?”
“Yes.”
That almost wins a smile from her.
“Question one. Before the basin collapse, did you have prior awareness the terrain was dangerous?”
Silence stretches for two beats.
“Yes.”
Direct answer. Good.
“Did you know it would collapse where you stepped?”
“No.”
Truth, I think.
“Did you believe leading us there reduced some other danger?”
A flicker in her eyes.
“Yes.”
“Did that danger involve me harming you?”
She goes still enough to resemble carved ice.
“Yes.”
There it is. I absorb the answer without allowing reaction to show.
“Was the vision clear or fragmented?”
“Clear.” Her voice roughens. “Too clear.”
“Did it resemble your usual sight?”
“No.”
“Different how?”
She swallows. “Single path. Complete sensation. No fractures. No alternatives. It felt… placed.”
The final word alters everything. Placed. By whom? How?
The forest offers many talents and few explanations. I shift one step closer, lowering my voice without softening it. “Why did you not tell me?”
She laughs once, brittle and exhausted. “Because I saw you kill me after using me dry. Forgive me for failing to present that gracefully.”
The image lands like a thrown knife, not because I believe it, but because I understand why she did.
I could deny it. Worthless. I could demand trust. More worthless still.
Instead I ask, “Did any part of you doubt it?”
Her gaze finally meets mine fully. There is anger there, fear beneath it, and something worse than either, disappointment in herself for wanting to doubt.
