[It's quiet for a moment, save for the faint hums of near-dark forestry and village echoes; she was growing used to Luceti's own breeds of sound, sound that was so easy for her to differentiate from place to place. This was what she would nestle in after dark, at her loom—alone, typically alone.

But not alone, really, when you think about it.

She wipes her eyes with the ends of her sleeves, swallowing down a choked noise. No more of that, Sayo. No more of that.]

You're right. I can't think like that... I—It's not good. To think that way. I just have to do the best I can do, because any less wouldn't be fair to Kaji.