Lithic stared out the window of the airship, watching the night pass by and didn’t move when Ferrum leaned against the wall next to her.

“Are you ok?” he asked, feeling foolish. He wasn’t really good at talking to the others, his gifts were in the strength of his arms, the song of metal he heard when working his forge. But the others claimed to be too tired, too heartsick, so here he was.

Her smile was sad as she turned and wound her arms around his waist, laying her ear against his chest. She listened to his strong heart for a long moment, content in the warmth of his embrace. “No, none of us are, but we have to continue anyway.”

He stroked the silk of her hair and sighed. “Can we do it? Are we strong enough without Spherule?” he asked, his voice going husky with unshed grief.

“There are many kinds of strength, little brother,” Lithic said at last, gently returning to her vigil.

He watched the sky with her a while. Then he bowed and left, certain that he’d have to learn them all in the days to come.