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"Do you truly believe the image will ever be whole again?"
"As we find more and more of the pieces, the picture will begin to coalesce. I think, someday, you
will
be whole."
For a time the reflected light of the pond shimmered in the cypress branches, silver and beautiful
but for
the few cloud shadows that passed over.
For days she'd been seeing faces frozen at the last moment of life—faces she had not seen
in many
winters. Faces, she knew now, that she had hoped never to see again.
I killed them. I loved them, and I killed them.
Tears constricted her throat.
"What is it?" he asked. "Do you need me?"
She squeezed her eyes closed. She did not want to tell him how very much she needed him, that
he was
the only thing that stood between her and a glittering blue torrent that spoke with the voices of
knives.
She said, "Will you stay with me? Help me to find the pieces?"
He had lost so much in recent days, he must long to run for the safety of the nearest Loon
village where
he had relatives. What would she do if he left her now?
"Sora, please look at me."
She turned.
"I'll stay," he said softly, "but I want you to know that I'm afraid."
"Of me?" Her voice shook. "I don't blame you, I—" "No, Sora. I'm not afraid of you. I've never