The 'parental' bedroom wing was quieter than the rest of the massive mountain lodge they called home.
Not because it was unused, it was hardly that, but because it was protected.
Sound didn't travel as easily here. The carpet softened footsteps. The thick walls held heat. The doors shut with a weight that made everything outside feel farther away than it had any right to.
Sera padded down the hall barefoot, her white hair still damp from the bath she'd given the kids, the ends curling against her back and clinging to her dress. How she managed to get so wet simply bathing two children who didn't want a bath, she would never know.
Even now, she could still smell the faint sweetness of their shampoo on her hands, still hear the last sleepy questions in her head like echoes.
Do snowmen get cold?
Can marshmallows dream?
If the moon follows us, does it get tired?
