The Truant in the Garden of Death
The Truant blinked, the goddess Waves pretended to be faded, and the woman beneath emerged as if through a fog. This was the woman the Truant had decided to help all those months ago; that she had decided to stay with after the disaster that was her attempted romantic reunion; and that she walked with through Great Forks, trying to think of ways to bring a smile to her face. The breath the Truant didn't truly need caught in her throat, forcing her to focus for a moment on her own body. It helped with her breathing, but it didn't help anything else. If she weren't as pale as a corpse and almost as bloodless her cheeks and ears would have gone pink. Instead, they just seemed to flush with a slight living colour that would have disgusted her master.
"Oh, er," the Truant stumbled, the living colour intensifying slightly. "I'm not really good with sorcerous stuff, or theological stuff. Even the dead sort of theology." She took a second look at the snowflake. "It's very pretty, though," she insisted awkwardly. "Er, say, why hasn't it melted yet? Snowflakes should melt as soon as you touch them..."