“I can talk again,” she whispers as I stop spinning. “I see that, sweet girl. What happened?” She shrugs her little shoulders in a way that’s almost identical to Scar and I know that’s where she’s picked it up from. “It was lost but then I was flying, and it just came back.” I don’t know what kind of explanation I expected from a four-year-old, but it makes as much sense as anything else.
