Sharna couldn’t believe how tired she was now, her whole body felt weighed down. Even with her long nap, she still felt heavily drained.

After Deidre and family had left, she went to look for Marjorie to ask for something to eat. “Are you all right?” Marjorie asked her, concerned. “You’re looking very pale,” she held her hand over Sharna’s forehead, “you feel okay.”

“I’m just really tired,” Sharna said, smiling wearily.

“I want you to head up to bed, there’s been a lot of transition happening for you and you need to look after yourself. I’ve just made some pumpkin soup and I’ll bring it up with some bread on a tray. You can eat it in bed.” Marjorie’s face brooked no argument and Sharna was happy to be coddled and told what to do. Marjorie shooed her out and she headed upstairs to put on some pyjamas.

By the time Marjorie knocked at her door, Sharna was changed and sitting up in her bed with her pillows behind her back. “Good girl, eat up your soup and then you can maybe have a sleep. I told Anna that you’re up here resting and she’ll let the others know.” She lay the tray on Sharna’s lap, fussed with her pillows and then left, closing the door gently behind her.

The soup was amazing, Sharna hadn’t realised just how hungry she was. It was thick and creamy with lots of herbs and salt; and the bread was still hot from the oven. Bliss. She ate everything with relish, then reached over to lay the tray on her bedside table.

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Her bed was warm, the sheets soft and inviting and she snuggled in, cuddling a pillow. Sharna felt safe and cared for. It was such a foreign feeling; she started to cry.

She cried for her grandmother, for her mother, and for herself. She cried for Laynie, for her father, for the family that she never got to have. She cried thinking about Deidre comforting her daughter, and how she had missed out on that with her own mother. Her whole body shook with sobs and she buried her face in the pillow. She felt the grief and loss with every part of herself. She missed her grandmother more every day, and now that she had released her hold on her grief it felt like it was drowning her.

While she had remained with her uncle, she had kept herself aloof, separate from those murderous thugs. Knowing that she was unsafe without her grandmother's protection mooring her in place, she had tried to repress all of her feelings so that she could keep a clear head while her life was in limbo and everything around her was in disarray.

Her only outlet in this time had been trying to plan her escape, and creating Quinn. Now, as she thought of Quinn, her anguish peaked and a powerful burst of need came from her heart, from her soul, from deep within. In response, as pure reflex, liquid mana pulsed out from her like a jet, searching for the other piece of herself.

“Sharna!” Quinn was there, instantly. She dove at Sharna, and Sharna cradled her to her chest lovingly, appreciating the stability of her delicate warmth. They were both silent as they enjoyed the overpowering relief that the contact gave them. Sharna marvelled at the immediacy of Quinn’s arrival, and what this represented in terms of knowledge.

The door flew open. Sharna looked up in surprise to see Myra standing there out of breath, holding on to the door handle, with her chest heaving. She stared at them with a mixture of panic and disbelief. They looked at each other in silence for a moment, and Sharna heard someone else thundering up the stairs, “Myra! What’s going on, are you okay?” Beau burst through the door behind Myra, looking around the room wildly until his eyes settled on Sharna, and then down to what she was holding.

Sharna blinked at them, her face still covered in tears, and then looked down with dismay at the clearly visible Quinn.

“Well, this is not ideal.” Quinn said.

That’s certainly an understatement, Sharna thought, mind racing as she looked at Myra and Beau’s bemused expressions.