He had never heard a laugh like that, one without traces of malice and the threat of power that turned plants to ash and poisoned the air and forced the heavens to growl. Why did it ring in his ears? Why did it sound like a rusted flute or a cracked harp or the crisp crunch of dry leaves or a broken, delicate wind embracing the heights of the trees? He hated this day. He hated her laugh.
