A lyrical lamentation called from the waterfall. The grief in each note was so acute and forlorn that Ewan’s heart retracted painfully. The tragic tune tore through the torrents of water, creating a haunting, harrowing ambiance. Occasionally, an errant note would cry out, making the loss more keenly felt. Pepin’s heart was galloping, he had to push out little breaths to steady his nerves, and combat the weightlessness in his heart that was making him feel sick with excited anticipation. His mind was racing with Aoife’s potential reactions. In contrast it his internal urgency, his movements felt slower, as if to make him appreciate the enormity of what was happening.
“They call this place the wailing waterfall,” Madla laughed, making Ewan even more confused.
“Your mother plays a speci
