“Are you sure this is the right way?” Foxglove asked, her curious eyes darting across the horizon as she pressed closer to her sister’s side.

It was summer on the Crossing and back on Luthien, but the season seemed to have left Tinuvel behind. The beach was rocky, strewn with pebbles and seashells that crunched underfoot as the girls made their way slowly along the shore. Further inshore the sand melted into sparse grass and then eventually into a thick cluster of dark trees, their leaves still coated with a fine layer of frost.

“How should I know,” Firethorn mumbled, her white lips twisting into a frown.

It was so cold. Though the breeze was gentle it stung against her skin, which was still damp from the swim over. The girls’ winter coats had shed out during the spring, leaving them unprepared for such a bitter climate. Beside her Foxglove shivered.

With a sigh, Firethorn paused and wrapped her neck over her sister’s in an effort to warm her. She couldn’t decide yet whether to regret coming here. It was a thirst for adventure and independence that had driven Firethorn to further investigate her father’s suggestion of the Inlet as a potential home for his children. A man called Pagan lived there, he had said, and he seemed nice enough.

That had been good enough for Firethorn. Foxglove, on the other hand, might have stayed in the Prairie her whole life had nothing ever encouraged her elsewhere, but where her sister went she went too.

“I’m cold,” Foxglove complained, nuzzling her head closer into her sister’s chest. Firethorn lowered her head to nibble at the copper tresses of Foxglove’s hair. “Come on,” she said, “not much further now.”

The words seemed to comfort Foxglove, though it was as clear as day that Firethorn had no more idea of their path now than she had a few minutes earlier.

foxglove && firethorn
LIKE TWO ATOMS IN A MOLECULE, INSEPARABLY COMBINED