The Mistress
“Near the old pier. It was struggling against the wind. I thought for a second it was going to go down into the waves.”
I froze, my fork halfway to my mouth. “And?”
“It didn’t,” he said, finally looking up. His eyes were a deep, aching brown, filled with a sorrow that mirrored my own. “It tucked its wings, used the downdraft, and found a crevice in the rocks. It’s still there. Hiding from the storm.”
I looked away, my throat tightening. “It’s just a bird, Zander.”
“It’s a survivor, Livy,” he whispered.