Dorgan
“How are you?” I ask, grasping for anything to pierce the silence that hangs like a curtain between us.
She shrugs, looking down at her boots before lifting her chin. "I'm okay." Simple words, but they carry so much. Tiredness. Hurt. Strength.
"And you?" she asks, after a heartbeat too long. Her voice is soft. Tentative. My heart stutters like a fool. She's talking to me. Not glaring. Not walking away.
I clear my throat. "Better now." I offer a small, crooked smile. "Seeing you here... it's good. Really good.”
Her arms wrap around herself, a self-soothing gesture, but she doesn't step back. She doesn't shut me out completely.
"I didn't come for you, Dorgan," she says quietly, not harshly, just honest. "I came because it's the right thing to do. For the Reserve. For freedom." I
