( gwenaëlle's eyes close under the touch and when they do, there could be two of them under there just as there used to be. there is no scar, with her lashes pressed to her cheeks; she looks just as she did with her head on lexie's pillow, sleeping the only place she had felt safe.

she breathes out. what a strange thing to have forgotten would be important. )

Fucking elf bullshit, ( she murmurs, ) it asked for one life, and when we were prepared to give it, it said, oh: good, I'll have something else.

( she had tried to volunteer hers; loxley had stepped in. flint, with his coins in his pocket, making them guess which to choose. loxley, brave, and flint, hard to read as ever. lexie doesn't need to hear about that. )

It's fine— I'm used to it, now. I have others, you know, not just this one, I have one that matches the bracelet you gave me and all.

I can still shoot a bow. I can still do my job.