Five times now she’s flinched at the sound of foot steps.
Twice now she’s moved away when someone approaches.
Constantly she’s looking around.
Twice now he’s just stared into space. Looking at the woods.
I wonder if he knows how many times he’s spun that bolt.
No more private meetings. Probably a good idea. Sad as it is to say. Untill this business is done. I don’t think it can be another way.
Vernon looks like he’s lost all hope. His face is covered in worry. I think I could string a bow with the weight of sorrow his heart holds.
Something is going to happen. And he’s sick his words might damn another. It’s hard to have hope when you can’t see a path to the light.
Like broken glass the cracks are showing.
What will next forum bring? Two more deaths?
I fear our souls will all bear the cracks.
Two knives. And not one thing they can do.
I wonder if this is how Vernon feels watching, not knowing what to do.
Watching souls shatter like broken glass.
Gods it was easier when I didn’t care.