"Gorge gusts," she warned, pointing with her chin. "Wrap your scarf like this." She showed Arielle the twist and tuck so it would not whip, her big hands gentle as she guided the cloth. Arielle copied until Lara nodded. Approval warmed like tea on an empty stomach.
Arielle was not a blade. She decided she didn't want to be. She was a compass. They seemed to like that. Relief swelled and sat down quietly in her chest, companionable as an old cat.
