My friend wasn’t ready to talk about the unfortunate event that stole a piece of her. Patience would have to win and my curious strides would have to be satisfied to know that at least her life had been spared—what good would vengeance do anyway? Had my spirit not once been tested before on the notion of hate when evil struck close? Forgiveness; a moral law one could choose to live by, or else be eaten alive with resentment.

She retold her story, openly enough; I listened quietly—concentrating on the sounds of our feet against the soft sand, and the rise, fall of those musical words. Worlds Edge, names of our allies and friends; (most of which I didn’t personally know.) Meanwhile, Fina was still glaring at Silas from my spine while Africa is talking. It didn’t matter if I tried to comfort her wounded pride. When Silas boasted his feathers in a mighty show of integrity, she fluffed up her wings and somehow strengthened the blaze across each feather in response. Still, the headstrong phoenix would look away each time one of us cast her a glance. This was the first time she had ever seen another species that bore some semblance to her own.

“I’m a little ashamed by what followed.” Sympathetic orbs shifted to meet her soft eyes. She spoke of the dark times we lived through, the ones filled with horrific endless nights. A darkness so bleak that it had felt smothering. Then…right before dawn. It was my turn to look away, a careful shield fell into place (a glaze that only someone as close as Fina might notice.) There would be no judgment from me, what right would anyone have to suffer a child who had lost more than us all? Fear could be tamed; or so we tried to leash its wide neck.

“Ye are home now, and the darkness has fled.” I tried to hold my smile of understanding, and perhaps she wouldn’t notice the hurt which lingered behind when a return question found its way out, “I have been well…” I replied simply, not exactly a lie, but also not the truth. Fina cooed softly, causing one ear to flick back before falling forward again. Her eyes had softened and were staring at my neck.

“You still hurt…share.”

“Nay,” I whispered, though it wasn’t explained which question I said nay at. Changing the subject was easy considering Africa had given me plenty of ammo, “How did ye survive underground for so long?”