Ella’s voice caught in her throat, and she pulled Faenir’s head in tighter to her lap. “He is gone, but that does not mean I will not carry him with me for the rest of my life. When my brother, Haem, was taken from us, my mother told me and Calen that ‘we honour the dead not by how we mourn their death, but by how we live on despite it.’” “I like that,” Shirea said, the weakest of smiles touching the edges of her mouth. A tear ran down the woman’s cheek as she fidgeted with the nozzle of the waterskin. “Will it ever stop hurting, though?” “I don’t think so,” Ella said, feeling a tear roll down
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