11
Sometime during the night, Harmony had returned.
Perched by the first-floor window, Lysithea gazed out at the chestnut mare. It bore white spots that somehow reminded Lysithea of cows. Flakes of snow were falling from the heavens once more, and amidst this idyllic scenery, Gray Hofflander was placing a saddle upon the steed’s back. He would soon be departing, gone forever from their lives. This thought led her down a path lined with hypotheticals.
What would have become of her had she not missed her step on the stairs the day before? Terran would have had no reason to lash out at Gray, which meant he wouldn’t currently be preparing to leave. And before that, what if she had confided to Gray all about what she had endured in this manor? Perhaps, had she asked him to investigate the manor’s ghost immediately upon learning he was a tracker, things might have ended up entirely different.
“Lysithea.”
