I looked at her, then ahead at the fire.
I don't know why, but something twisted in my chest.
"I'm sorry."
She smiled and shook her head.
"I was little then, around three. I don't even remember their faces anymore, not really. I just... only remember the impressions. The way my mother's voice sounded when she sang, or how my father would lift me onto his shoulders."
She started drawing in the air with one finger.
"That's the reason Grandfather never let me leave. Why he was so protective. Why he built his whole life around keeping Oakmere safe, keeping me safe." She drew a circle, then crossed it out.
"He didn't want to lose me the same way he lost them."
"But... it was my dream," she continued, her voice taking on a bitter edge, "to go out and see the world beyond those farms. Beyond the same fields I'd walked through a thousand times. Beyond the same faces I'd known my entire life."
She drew another pattern, a rough sketch of what might have been a bird.
