In the Arms of the Enemy’s Brother
"Oh my god, Serena. It looks amazing. The mural turned out so well, I can't believe I painted that."
"You're talented."
"I know." She grins, sets the bag down on the rocking chair, and starts pulling things out. "Okay, so. The mobile." She holds it up, a cluster of felt elephants in soft grays and blues, connected by a ring of wooden beads. "It's handcrafted. I thought it would match the forest theme." "It's perfect." I feel the familiar sting of tears again, and Emma notices. "Serena. You're crying."