rufily

Tiger Lily makes no sound, but her nails dig crescents into Wendy’s arms. It is a long while before she breaks the silence. “He was destined a better death.”

Wendy cannot tear her eyes away from Rufio’s blood-streaked face. He was the first to welcome me back, she thinks, clenching her jaw. I was soaking wet and cold, and he gave me his cloak and called me Mother.

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