It was as though his repayment brought him no joy , as though despite leading her home, he knew that she was still lost, and he still alone.

Maybe it was childish, but Miya lamented that reality wasn‘t a fairy tale she could rewrite with the power of her imagination. Reality wasn‘t timeless or enchanting; it was finite and perilous.

Don‘t lose your way, she heard the wind hiss an ominous spell, or there‘ll be hell to pay.