Page 64 of Salt Between the Wolves

Varda tied off a bundle of herbs before continuing.

"You sleep less."

Eira looked away while Varda sighed softly, the sound carrying neither judgment nor frustration but only concern.

"You spend too much time alone."

The observation landed uncomfortably close to the truth.

Outside, a gust of wind rattled faintly against the shutters, and for several moments Varda worked in silence before speaking again without looking up.

"I don't believe Riven died because of you."

The room seemed to grow still.

Eira stared at her while the old woman continued arranging supplies as though she had merely commented on the weather.

"You may be the only one."

The words escaped before Eira could stop them.

Something painful flickered through the Varda's eyes.

"No."

She tied the satchel closed before continuing.

"I'm simply the only one willing to say it aloud."

Silence settled between them, not awkward or strained but honest, and for the first time in weeks Eira found herself unable to look away.

Varda met her gaze steadily.

"People need somewhere to place their grief."

Eira said nothing.

"They want reasons."

The old woman folded her hands.

"They want order."

A faint sadness touched her expression.

"Sometimes they would rather have the wrong answer than no answer at all."

Eira lowered her eyes. Part of her wanted to argue, while another part wanted desperately to believe every word, yet neither seemed possible.

Varda studied her for a long moment before reaching across the table and adjusting one of the herb packets that did not need adjusting, a small gesture that felt unmistakably motherly.

"You cared for him."

It was not a question.

Eira swallowed.

"Yes."