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Summary
No one liked to talk about it, what it meant that some of Faerun's peoples lived seven times more than others, or even more besides. No one liked to talk about death before it came, after all, and so, if you were the one that was fated to walk ever onwards as your mayfly-friends vanished from your side, you did not talk about it. You tried not to think about it. You tried to eke out the time you were granted, knowing all the while it would never be enough.
But gods above, she had hoped for a little more than this. Months, years, decades; short to her but some time at least. Not enough, never enough, but some. Instead, she had had only weeks, days, scarce hours and minutes, and then the mayfly that held her heart fluttered its Weave'd wings and was gone forever from her sight.
Series
- Part 1 of Those Left Behind