The cottage deepened into silence, broken only by the soft intake and release of Lia''s breath beside her and the low, rhythmic sigh of wind against the shutters. Anna kept her hand near Lia''s head; fine strands of hair felt cool against her scraped knuckles. A sharp throb pulsed beneath the bandages on her side. Her chest tightened. Her own breath caught shallowly. Dusk motes, visible in the thin gray shafts of light cutting through the shutters, danced in slow spirals near the ceiling beams. Faint orange flickers from the hearth''s dying embers caught the motes. The air held the smells of old woodsmoke, damp earth, and the sharp, clean scent of antiseptic.
Her gaze tracked a water stain spreading across the ceiling boards, its edges dark, irregular. Floorboards creaked softly near the hearth. Miriam''s silhouette moved there. A small log fell onto the embers. Orange light flared briefly, illuminating Miriam''s face—lines etched deep around her eyes, mouth set—before she turned away. Shadows swallowed her features again. The scent of herbs sharpened as Miriam stirred something in a pot hanging over the low flames. A metal spoon scraped lightly against ceramic.
Anna tried to shift her weight on the cot, a millimeter. Fire bloomed beneath her ribs, radiating outwards. A low groan tore from her throat, muffled against the rough blanket. Her vision swam, wooden beams blurring overhead. Miriam was beside the cot. A damp cloth pressed cool against Anna''s forehead. A faint scent of chamomile rose from the cloth. Anna flinched at the contact but her head stayed still. Her eyes squeezed shut. Miriam''s hand felt cool on her skin, the pressure light.
Gray light shifted through the shutters, brightening slightly. Bars of light crept across the floor. The hearth embers glowed a fainter red. Lia stirred beside her, a soft snuffling sound. Her small body shifted closer. Her bandaged hand brushed Anna''s uninjured arm, the contact feather-light through the blanket. Anna opened her eyes again. Lia''s remained closed, her breathing deep, even.
A new sound came from outside, cutting through the wind''s low moan. A harsh, grinding SCREECH, metal on metal, distant. Anna tensed, muscles locking. Fresh jolts shot through her side. Another sound—a heavy, resonant THUD, vibrating faintly through the cottage floorboards. Her breath hitched. Salvage. Dismantling. Cloudchaser.
Her eyes snapped open, wide, fixed on the pale gray light slicing through the shuttered window. The SCREECH came again, dragged out, a long, raw sound of tearing metal that vibrated deep in Anna''s bones. Near the hearth, Miriam froze. The damp cloth dripped onto the stone floor. Miriam''s head angled, listening. Their eyes met across the dim room. Miriam''s face tightened, mouth pulling thin, before she turned abruptly away. Her hands resumed movement at the basin, knuckles white against the ceramic edge.
Sounds outside continued in sharp, uneven bursts—a high-pitched SHRIEK, then a muffled, heavy CLANG, then a sodden THUMP, dull, final. Each impact sent a jolt through Anna''s body, resonating with the ache in her side, pushing air from her tight chest. Tears welled, hot, sharp, spilling over, tracing stinging paths through the grime on her temples. The rough ceiling beams blurred, wavering. She clenched her fists against the coarse blanket weave, nails biting deep into her palms. Faint, wet heat prickled her skin there.
She squeezed her eyes shut, a low gasp escaping. Sounds remained: the faint, insistent PLINK of water dripping from the eaves; the vast, distant rumble and sigh of waves breaking below the cliffs; Lia''s soft, rhythmic breath beside her. But the grating RIP of steel, the brutal CLANG, the final, dead THUD—they pushed through, loud, sharp. Each sound struck like a physical blow against the hollow space inside her chest. A choked sob escaped, muffled against the blanket, as the sounds outside continued, relentless.
The cottage door creaked open wider. A rush of damp, cold air pushed inside, carrying the sharp smell of rain-soaked dust. Milo stood framed in the doorway, his form dark against the brighter grey outside. The scent of damp cloth, wind, and faint fuel residue clung to him. He froze just inside, his movements stiff. His gaze swept the room—the cot, Anna''s bandaged form, Lia asleep, Miriam by the hearth. His hands clenched into fists at his sides. A sharp intake of breath hissed between his teeth. "Anna...?"
The name came out choked, rough, slicing the cottage quiet. The boy remained near the door, damp air swirling around travel-worn clothes. His foot lifted, paused, then settled forward; another step followed, boots scuffing heavily on the wooden floor, the sound loud. Miriam met him quickly, placing a hand gently on his arm. Her lips moved, low murmuring sounds beneath the wind''s sigh, too soft for Anna to catch clearly. He listened, head bent, a faint tension gathering in his shoulders. The satchel he carried shifted on his shoulder.
He gave his head a single, sharp shake. Then his head snapped up. Wide, dark eyes found Anna''s through the gloom, bypassing Miriam. His face looked drained, pinched. He pulled away from Miriam''s hand and strode to the cot''s edge, halting mid-stride so his boots skidded a fraction on the dusty planks. His gaze swept over Anna – pale skin against dark bandages, the shallow breath that barely stirred the blanket, the stillness. His eyes snagged on Lia''s small, splinted hand near Anna''s shoulder. His fingers curled inward, knuckles whitening as they formed slow fists. A visible tremor started in his arms.
"Anna..." Milo began again, voice rougher, thick. "Miriam said... Rennon? He..." His gaze flicked between Anna''s closed eyes and Lia''s sleeping form. He leaned closer, his voice dropping, a strained whisper cutting through the air. "Tell me. Is it true?"
The direct question sounded loud in the stillness around Anna. Effort showed in the tightening muscles along her neck as she managed a slow turn of her head on the rough pillow. Eyelids fluttered, heavy, lifting partway. Red-rimmed grayish-blue eyes, unfocused, pupils wide, met Milo''s stare for a single, unfocused second. Air scraped raw in her throat. A small, choked sound escaped her lips, less than a word, barely a breath. Her eyelids fluttered shut again as a weak cough seized her ribs. The movement made her flinch, curling slightly inward.
The lack of denial, the visible pain—Milo flinched back. "Rennon," he spat, the name sharp against the quiet. He recoiled from the cot, spinning away fast. His boots struck the floorboards—sharp thuds. A fast beat started against Anna''s ribs, felt through the cot frame. He paced the small space near the hearth, steps short, jerky. Dust lifted around his worn boots. He flung a hand back towards the cot, a jagged motion cutting the air. He stopped, spun back towards the hearth, hands clenching, unclenching. His voice broke on a sound, the name—Cloudchaser—caught unspoken in his throat. He turned his back fully to the cot, facing the cold hearth stones, shoulders rigid. They began to shake, fine tremors running up into his neck.
"If he was here," Milo choked out, the words thick, muffled against the stone. His breath hitched. "If I could just find him... just see him...I''d" The unfinished sound stopped. His fist shot out without warning, striking the rough stone of the hearth. A dull, cracking THUD reverberated through the cottage. Stone chips flew. He snatched his hand back with a sharp hiss of breath, cradling bruised, scraped knuckles against his chest. He leaned his forehead hard against the cool stone, shoulders shaking visibly now, breath coming in fast, hard gasps that puffed white in the dim light.
The impact sound was sharp in the room. Anna winced, eyes squeezing shut tighter. Outside, the grating screech of tearing metal returned from the salvage site, louder this time, followed by an echoing CLANG that vibrated through the floor. Another faint sound escaped her, a low whimper muffled against the pillow. A tear escaped, tracing a hot path through the grime on her temple. The noise made her flinch again.
Milo pushed away from the hearth, turning slow. His eyes were bright, wet, his face flushed dark beneath the grime. Lines remained tight around his mouth, but his brow furrowed, gaze shifting between Anna and his own hand. He looked at Anna, slumped weak against the pillows, her eyes still closed. He looked at Lia sleeping beside her, small and still. His gaze dropped again to his own scraped, bleeding knuckles.
"But... he can''t just..." Milo stammered, gesturing vaguely towards the closed door with his uninjured hand. His voice was thin. "He can''t just run off! Leave this... mess! It''s not... fair!..." The word hung unfinished, swallowed by the cottage quiet.
Anna remained silent. Her eyes stayed closed. Outside, the grating metal sounds continued their rhythm. The fire in her side pulsed, a steady throb against the rough bandages.
Just then, the steady lamplight overhead dimmed slightly. A large shadow passed across the narrow window slits. A deep, resonant hum vibrated through the cottage walls, different from the village turbines. The hum faded. Footsteps approached the cottage door again, heavier boots crunching on gravel. Dr. Roswell''s crisp voice came through the slightly ajar door, speaking to Dr. Halden.
"Physical injuries—ribs, concussion, burns—responding. Stabilization holding," Roswell stated. A pause. The whine of a medical scanner hummed faintly. "Pupils reactive. Gaze unfocused. Unfocused...? Minimal response to stimuli... Stimuli...? Words... floating... pain reflex noted." Another brief pause. "Continue calm environment. Minimal disturbance. Sedation ongoing."
Halden''s lower, gravelly voice replied, "...after her father... months. Worse. Worse? The child..."
"Yes," Roswell cut in, her tone sharp. "Physical recovery timelines established. Monitor closely. Need to assess other injury now—male, head and shoulder."
The footsteps crunched away from the door, fading down the path towards the barn. Anna heard the sounds: "Gaze unfocused." "Minimal response." Words drifting through the dim room, detached, like echoes in a vast, empty space. Not me... just noise... They brushed past the cold ache deep inside her chest, the raw emptiness.
Pain remained a dull fire banked low beneath her ribs, flaring sharper with each breath. A cold knot twisted deep in her gut. Her gaze drifted towards the small, bandaged hand resting near her own on the blanket. Cloudchaser. The name, unspoken, hit like a physical blow. Outside, the real sounds started again – a high-pitched GRIND, metal scoring metal. No... that sound... Followed by a muffled, jarring THUD. Stop it. Still out there. Taking the ship apart. Each noise was an impact, making her teeth clench, her breath hitch against the fire in her side. Tears welled, hot, spilling over, tracing stinging paths through the grime on her temples. The rough ceiling beams blurred.
She clenched her fists against the coarse blanket weave, nails biting deep into her palms until faint moisture prickled the skin. Dad''s... stop tearing her apart... She squeezed her eyes shut, a low gasp escaping, trying to block the noise. The faint PLINK of water dripping from the eaves, the distant rumble of waves, Lia''s soft breath beside her—faint sounds beneath the grating RIP of steel, the brutal CLANG, the final, dead THUD. The sounds pierced through, scraping against the hollow space inside her chest. A choked sob escaped, muffled against the blanket, as the noises outside ground on.
Floorboards creaked near the cot. Milo''s shadow fell over her. He knelt slowly, hesitantly, beside the low bed, the scent of damp earth and faint fuel clinging to him. He held out a chipped tin cup, water sloshing slightly. "Anna? Drink something?" His voice was low, uneven.
She didn''t turn her head. Didn''t open her eyes.
He lowered the cup after a moment, setting it on the floor with a soft clink. His fingers brushed the edge of the blanket near her uninjured arm, then hovered near the scraped knuckles on that hand, visible beneath a loose wrap. "Bandage looks... okay," he murmured, his voice thin. His clumsy touch, the quiet sounds of the cottage... a sudden image flashed behind her closed eyelids: wind snapping canvas overhead, the specific groan of Cloudchaser''s hull settling after a gust near the Orun plateau, laugh mixing with the whine of the rotors. The flash vanished, leaving only the throb in her side and the scraping noise from outside.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
Milo sighed, a rough sound in the quiet. He shifted, retreating slightly. "They''re still out there, Anna," he said, his voice dropping lower, rougher. "At the... the wreck site."
The word ''wreck'' hung in the air. Another CLANG echoed from outside, louder this time. Behind her closed eyes: Milo''s face, younger, alight with excitement just weeks ago. Her voice, from the airship deck under twilight: "Promise we''ll fly together again soon... We''ll have more stories to tell, I promise." The memory struck, sharp, painful against the backdrop of grinding metal. Her breath caught in a sharp gasp, her hand clenching tight on the blanket. Her eyes squeezed shut harder, pushing against the image.
Milo made a low sound, maybe frustration, maybe something else. Floorboards creaked as he stood and moved away, back towards the hearth. The small sounds of him settling onto the stool returned—a soft scrape, the quiet friction of cloth against wood.
Gray light shifted through the shutters. Bars of light crept slow across the floor. Outside, sounds repeated – sharp SCREECHES, heavy CLANGS, muffled thuds. Later— the light brighter, the sounds unchanged —Miriam moved near the cot. A cool hand touched Anna''s forehead, brushing back damp, tangled hair. Low murmuring sounds drifted near her ear, followed by pressure beneath her shoulders, under her knees. Anna gasped as movement ignited fire in her side, a sharp, spreading heat. Her vision swam; the cottage walls tilted, swayed. Lifting—the world rocked beneath her back. Wood scraped against wood. Firmer support pressed against her spine, her legs. A rough blanket settled over her.
Now, propped in a chair near the hearth, the ember''s orange glow pulsed weak. Flickering shadows shifted on the stone. The sounds from outside—the tearing SHRIEK, the CLANG—felt closer, vibrating faintly through the air. Anna stared at the embers, eyes tracking the shifting red patterns. Her face was pale, muscles slack. Miriam moved quietly in the background—the soft clink of a spoon against pottery, the rustle of cloth. Milo sat on a low stool across the hearth, head bowed, running a rag slowly over a spanner. Scrapes showed raw on his knuckles. His head remained down.
Lia sat on the floor near Anna''s feet. She turned a smooth wooden bird over and over in her hand. Her bandaged, splinted fingers lay still in her lap. She looked up occasionally, her large, dark eyes fixed on Anna. The quiet stretched, broken only by the hearth''s soft hiss. Lia stood slowly. Her small boots whispered on the dusty floor as she walked the few steps to Anna''s chair. She reached out, placing the smooth, carved bird onto the rough blanket covering Anna''s lap, near her uninjured hand. Lia didn''t speak, just looked up at Anna''s face with wide, dark eyes.
Anna''s gaze drifted down to the bird. Its polished wood reflected the faint hearth glow. Her fingers twitched on the blanket, a faint tremor. The shape of the bird pressed through the wool, smooth, solid. A slight tightening flickered around her eyes, a faint downward pull at the corner of her mouth. Her stare drifted back to the hearth''s pulsing red embers. After another moment, Lia retrieved the bird, her movements slow, deliberate. She returned to her spot on the floor, her small shoulders lowering slightly as she sat.
Milo''s rag stilled. Lines deepened around his mouth. He put the spanner down onto the stool beside him with a soft metallic tap. Miriam paused her quiet tidying near the window, her hand resting on the worn wood of Anna''s chair back, a silent pressure. Anna remained motionless.
The air filled again with the grating sounds of salvage from outside. Then, a different sound cut through – the distant, laboring groan of an airship engine, strained against the wind. Not the hospital ship''s deep hum. Rougher. Familiar. Red Wing? Stormchaser? Milo looked up sharply, head tilted towards the window slits. Miriam turned too, her back straightening, head angled towards the sound.
After several minutes, marked by ongoing CLANGS from the wreckage site, heavy, uneven footsteps crunched on the path outside. A shadow fell across the threshold. Old Joren stood there, framed against the dull grey sky. White hair whipped wild around his face. Lines ran deep into his skin. He brought the cold scent of open air and damp canvas into the room. He gave a sharp nod to Miriam. His gaze swept over Milo, then landed on Anna''s motionless form in the chair.
Joren cleared his throat, the sound rough as stone. "Searched north," he began, his voice gravelly, slower than usual. "Towards Veyra''s flanks... where the wind might''ve pushed him." He paused, rubbing a hand hard over his face, dislodging flakes of dried mud. "Storm scatters everything... ash clouds thick out there." He shook his head slowly, his gaze meeting Miriam''s fixed stare. "Not found him." The words dropped into the quiet room. "No wreck. No glide-suit snagged on cliffs. No tracks off the plateau edges." His eyes flickered towards Anna, then quickly away. "Mira and Kael still sweeping west, but..." He gave a small shrug, shoulders slumping slightly. "Vanished. Into the dust."
Anna gave no sign she had heard Joren''s words. Her eyes remained fixed on the dim hearth, her breathing shallow. Milo''s fists clenched again at his sides. A low sound vibrated in his throat. "Vanished?" he breathed, the sound thin. "Just... gone?" Joren met his gaze, then gave a small shrug, shoulders slumping slightly.
Joren lingered a moment longer. His hand rested heavily on the doorframe. His gaze swept one last time over Anna''s still form, Miriam standing quiet nearby, and Milo hunched on the stool. The scent of cold wind and damp earth clung to him. He sighed, the sound stirring the air, then turned. His uneven footsteps crunched away down the gravel path, fading into the sounds of the wind and the distant waves.
The cottage quiet deepened, the air thick, heavy. Outside, ash dust settled. The sounds: the soft hiss and pop of the last embers in the hearth, Lia''s steady breathing from the floor near Anna''s chair, Milo''s ragged breaths near the wall. The grating sounds of salvage had stopped. Twilight yielded to night. Wind moaned low around the cottage eaves.
Shadows crept across the floor as the hearth embers died completely. The room sank into near darkness. A single oil lamp Miriam had lit cast a steady, warm flame. Long, dancing shapes moved on the rough wooden walls. The light flickered across Anna''s pale, unmoving face. The thick, oily scent of the burning wick filled the small space.
Miriam rose. Floorboards creaked loud in the hush. She walked to Anna, kneeling beside the chair. "Anna," she whispered, the sound rough. "Let me help you back to the cot." She reached out, her hand hovering near Anna''s shoulder.
Anna didn''t move. Miriam''s hand pressed lightly on her arm. No response. Anna''s eyes remained open, fixed on the dark space where the embers had glowed. Lamplight reflected in two small, vacant points. Her breathing stayed shallow, barely stirring the rough blanket.
Miriam tried again, her voice softer. "Broth, then? Something warm?" She held up a small, steaming bowl. The earthy smell of root stew rose faintly. Anna turned her head away, a slow movement. Her gaze fixed on the rough wall beside her chair.
Miriam sighed, the sound heavy. She placed the untouched bowl on the small table near the lamp. She adjusted the blanket around Anna''s legs. Her fingers brushed the smooth wood of the bird resting there. She looked at Anna, slumped in the chair, face blank. Miriam''s mouth tightened, pulled thin, then smoothed. She straightened, pulling her thin shawl tighter against the night chill.
Milo hadn''t moved from his stool, slumped forward, elbows on knees, head bowed. He looked small in the dim light. Lia dozed against the leg of Anna''s chair, her small, bandaged hand tucked beneath her cheek, the carved bird held loose in her other fist.
Waves crashed far below, a relentless rhythm pulsing through the silence. Wind whispered through cracks in the walls. Anna sat rigid in the chair, staring into the darkness. Rennon gone. Cloudchaser scrap. Lia hurt. The wooden bird lay on her lap. Her body ached. The lamp flame flickered, casting her shadow long and unmoving against the wall.
Silence pressed into the cottage space. Only the low sigh of wind against shutters, the rhythmic CRASH... hiss... of waves far below the cliffs. Hearth embers pulsed faint orange, casting flickering light onto gray ash collecting thick on the stones. Lia''s soft breath, in and out, stirred the air beside Anna''s chair. Anna sat rigid, eyes open, fixed on a dark corner where lamplight failed to reach. The rough blanket felt heavy on her legs. Her breathing scraped shallow, pulling sharp fire across her bandaged ribs with each small rise and fall. The wooden bird lay still on the blanket near her unmoving hand.
Floorboards groaned near the hearth. Milo. His shadow stretched long, thin in the lamplight. Anna''s peripheral vision registered the movement – a dark shape detaching from the stool. His boots scuffed heavy on the packed earth floor. Scrape... thud... scrape. He stopped near the stone hearth. His back faced the room, shoulders hunched tight.
A different warmth... pine scent... Dad''s laugh echoing off metal... Cloudchaser''s gleaming hull catching golden light... Wind snatching hair across a wide, open sky... "More stories to tell, Milo, I promise..." The fragment flared, then vanished, leaving only the cold hearth stone and the low moan of the wind.
Milo''s head bowed lower. His bruised fist pressed hard against the rough stone. A shudder ran through his frame, visible even from across the room. He stayed like that, pressed against the cold stone, for several long breaths. Then he pushed away, turning stiff. He walked to a nearby cupboard, opened it with a soft creak of wood. His hand fumbled inside, metal clinking faint against metal. He pulled out a small screwdriver, stared at it, then started tightening a loose hinge on the cupboard door. Twist... squeak... twist. Small sounds against the vast crash of waves outside.
Lia shifted on the floor beside Anna''s chair. The blanket rustled. Her small head lifted slightly. Her eyes, dark in the dim light, looked towards Milo''s fiddling hands, then back up at Anna''s still face. She held the smooth wooden bird closer. "Bird," Lia whispered, the sound a tiny puff of air. She held it up, near Anna''s hand resting limp on the blanket. The polished wood grazed Anna''s knuckles. Cool. Smooth.
Anna''s fingers stayed slack. No response. Her gaze remained fixed on the shadowed corner. The wood''s touch was a distant pressure, unregistered against the cold stillness inside her.
Miriam moved quiet from the far side of the room. The scent of lukewarm broth – roots, herbs – drifted faint. The bowl appeared in Anna''s line of sight, held near her face. "Anna." Miriam''s voice, low, a murmur. "A sip."
Anna''s head turned away. Slow. The movement pulled taut muscles in her neck. Sharp pain spiked low, near her collarbone. Her gaze shifted to the rough wooden wall beside the chair.
Miriam sighed, a quiet exhale. The bowl lowered, vanished from view. A soft clink as it met the floor. Cool fingers brushed Anna''s uninjured hand. The blanket edge lifted. A sharp, clean antiseptic scent pricked the air. Pressure, light, against scraped knuckles. A brief, stinging coolness. Then the blanket settled back.
Miriam rose. Floorboards groaned. Anna heard the sound of liquid poured, the dull clink of bowls. Miriam''s low voice murmured to Milo, then to Lia. The scrape of a spoon against ceramic. Lia sipping, slow. Milo took a bite of bread – a hard crunch, then silence. Later, the soft scrape of the bowls being cleared away.
The lamp flame flickered, dipped low, flared bright again. Shadows stretched, contracted, warped on the ceiling beams. Outside, wind howled higher, rattling the shutters hard. Waves crashed steady, a deep pulse beneath the wind''s cry.
Lia finished eating. Her bowl clicked soft against the floor. The rustle of her blanket as she curled closer to Anna''s chair leg. Her breathing deepened, settled into the even rhythm of sleep.
Milo set his untouched bowl down on the hearth with a louder clink. He dropped the screwdriver beside it. He returned to the stool, slumping forward again, elbows on knees, head in hands. Stillness.
Miriam moved again, her shadow passing across the lamplight. The soft snip of thread. The rhythmic pull of a needle through cloth. Mending. Small, steady sounds against the storm outside.
Time passed. The lamp burned lower. The air grew colder. Anna sat. The fire in her side pulsed, a dull, constant burn. Her mind felt like a vast, gray space. Sometimes, sharp fragments tore through: Rennon''s face snarling... the baton striking... the explosion''s roar... Cloudchaser twisting, burning... Lia''s cry... the kite shattering... Dad''s voice from the nightmare: "Never enough." The fragments hit, jolted, then faded back into the gray emptiness. Her hands remained still on her lap.
Darkness pressed thick against the shutters now. True night. Miriam''s needle paused. A soft scrape as she set the mending aside. Floorboards creaked as she rose. "Milo," Miriam murmured. "Lia. Time to rest proper."
Milo looked up, face pale, eyes empty in the lamplight. He nodded, slow. He helped Miriam lift the sleeping Lia, carrying her small form careful to the other cot. Lia didn''t stir, the wooden bird clutched tight. Milo crossed to the hearth pallet, sank down, pulled the thin blanket over himself. He faced the wall.
Miriam returned to Anna''s side. She checked the bandages on Anna''s hand, then the wrapping on her side, fingers brushing light against the cloth. Anna remained passive, eyes open, staring towards the dark hearth. "Anna," Miriam whispered. "Come to the cot. You need sleep." Hand pressured light on her arm.
No response.
Miriam sighed again, the sound barely stirring the air. She adjusted the blanket around Anna''s shoulders, tucking it closer against the chill. She retrieved her shawl, wrapped it tight, and settled back into her own chair nearby. The rhythmic crash of waves filled the deep quiet. The lamp flame sputtered, casting a final weak flicker across Anna''s pale, still face.
Exhaustion began to weigh heavy. Anna''s eyelids felt thick, gritty. Blinking became slow labor. The shadows in the room blurred, deepened. The hard lines of the chair arms softened. The pulsing fire in her side felt distant, muffled. Her head nodded once, jaw slackening. Her eyes drifted shut. Opened half. Shut again. Her breathing deepened, a ragged sound, evening out slow. The fierce tension holding her rigid finally broke. Her head lolled against the chair back, cheek pressing into the rough wood. Her hands relaxed on the blanket. Consciousness frayed, thinned, dissolved into heavy, dark blankness.
Miriam watched. When Anna''s breathing settled into the deeper rhythm of sleep, Miriam rose silent. She checked Anna''s forehead. Adjusted the blanket one last time. She blew out the lamp. Darkness swallowed the cottage, save for faint moonlight striping the floor. Miriam returned to her chair, a shadow listening to the wind and the waves, guarding the stillness until dawn.