Liberi Reader

She shakes her head.

Ratatos never thought she would see this expression on her sister, who is usually so cheerful and straightforward.

The man smiles nonchalantly.

The mountain wind carries the snow, battering the hay-thatched roof.

A few dry leaves are blown into the air, landing on the braids of the girl sitting on the rooftop. She picks it out and rubs it in her fingers.

The Rift Cloudbeast pokes its head out from behind the girl's shoulders, rubbing against her red cheeks.

The little white creature, which has endured many harsh days and nights with Joanna, purrs gently.

The girl sits quietly on the roof, Rift Cloudbeast in her arms, until the fine snowflakes cover her hair in white.

The door leading to the backyard is pushed open.

The visitor has added a few shallow footprints on the snow. Enya sees three scattered crossbows as she walks to her left, and picks up one to examine it.

It is smaller than the one that Joanna uses.

Enya casts her gaze in front, and there are three targets standing a short distance away, with a few bolts on them that have yet to be retrieved.

Enya's attention is drawn to a bunch of sculptures scattered haphazardly on the ground at the other end of the yard. Their visage is a familiar one.

Enya approaches the largest amongst them and holds it before her. The sculptor was obviously extremely skilled—Kjeragandr is smiling gently upon her.

There are other sculptures lying by her feet, and Enya picks up one of them.

This one is sleeker, the chisel marks on the face rougher, giving it a sense of harshness. Perhaps the sculptor had used too much force when sculpting the face, and chiseled off a little too much.

She carefully puts the two sculptures of different sizes back.

In this bare, unfamiliar backyard, Enya puts her hands together and prays toward the statue of Kjeragandr, as the elders of Vine-Bead Court often do.

She does not make any wish. She only hopes for a miracle.

The sun has set, but the huntress still sits in the yard.

She hurriedly gets up to bow when she sees Enya, but the latter lays a hand on her shoulder.

After greeting Enya, the girl looks aside and falls quiet again.

Tears roll down the young cheeks of the huntress who always puts on a strong front, falling and melting the snow by their feet.

Enya takes Joanna's trembling hands in hers.

The grieving girl drops to the ground, curled up in a fetal position.

Enya kneels by her side, trying to find words of consolation, but for all the scriptures she has memorized, none have an answer. After a brief hesitation, she begins patting the girl's back.

There is a lump in her throat. If even eternal Kjeragandr can fall silent, what could Her Saintess possibly do?

Are you listening, Kjarr...?

Sitting by the window, the Rift Cloudbeast suddenly growls with as much volume as it can muster, and darts back into Joanna's hood.

Joanna sniffles and wipes her tears with her palms.