Night settles slowly over the territory.
Not harsh. Not heavy. Just quiet. The kind of quiet that doesn’t demand anything.
For once. I stand just beyond the doorway.
Unseen. Unannounced. I hadn’t meant to stop here. I hadn’t meant to linger. But then, I heard her.
Soft at first. Barely there. A thread of sound drifting through the dim corridor. And now, I can’t move.
Inside, Willow sits near the window, the curtains drawn just enough to let moonlight spill across the floor in pale silver.
Talon is cradled in one arm. Phoenix rests against her shoulder. Both small. Both fragile. Both ours.
And she... she’s singing. Her voice is quiet. Not trained. Not perfect. But steady. Warm. Alive.
A lullaby I don’t recognize. Maybe something from her childhood. Maybe something she’s making up as
