The winds brought scent of spring, as though attempting to cheer all hearts it touched. Birds began to sing again, in that cautious manner they did whenever winter seemed to dwindle.
Normally this would bring a brightness to Daphne's soul and make her slightly less prone to scowling. It was not so, this time.
Most of the time, she had some loose idea of what she would do in a situation. It mattered very little how tough the situation was; she always had a plan. Yet now, she felt useless. She sat in a camp of brigands and thugs, presumably within the wilds of Bree-land, though she could not say for certain. She was surrounded by people who would not hesitate to harm her and she felt Harold was speaking the truth when he told her nobody thought anything amiss with her sudden disappearance.
After her last rejection of his proposal, he'd informed her, with no small amount of satisfaction, that the Company was dormant. Many had left in the time she'd been gone. Scattered to the winds. She refused to let the news impact her until he was out of her sight, but it had impacted her...hard. She felt it was her fault it had practically disbanded, yet she could not fully explain to herself why.
It had been a few days since then, and her mind had not ceased in that loop. The family she had found and come to love so dearly, was now scattered. Gone.
"Petunia, sing for me. I've missed your voice," Harold's voice broke through her contemplation. It was both welcome and highly annoying. "I remember your drawing and singing were both beyond compare. I'm sure you still can't dance to save your life." He chuckled and his grin told her he was trying to tease. But she had no sense of humour for him.
"You move well, Daph." That voice sounded in her head in brief memory, causing her to swallow back tears again. There was no need to compare the two; there was no comparison, in her eyes.
She lifted her gaze to Harold again, deciding she would sing for him...only because she knew precisely which song she wanted to sing.
"Kind friends and companions, come join me in rhyme.
Come lift up your voices in chorus with mine.
Come lift up your voices all grief to refrain
For we may, or might never, all meet here again."
Her mind played through all of the times with the Company as she sang. She nearly smiled as she saw Harold's smile drop when he recognised the song and he fully understood her meaning. Her gaze remained defiant, and she continued.
Let us drink and be merry, all out of one glass.
Let us drink and be merry, all grief to refrain.
For we may, or might never, all meet here again."
