His legs wouldn’t work right and his palms were sweating profusely, to the point that he slipped twice when he leaned on the bannister. Eventually, Bailey and Isaac each took an arm and half-carried him up, unsure if allowing him to see her was the smart move. Aidan didn’t say a word. He didn’t think anything. He just wallowed in the pool of sorrow that he had visited so often beyond Lowsunn’s walls. Everyone put up a good façade when they were in the company of others, especially on the outside. A bout of bravery. A shout of courage. A smile of confidence. These were all childish tactics that somehow worked even against strangers whom had experienced far worse than he. But there was no denying the spirit that came over him when he had been alone, hiding in the night high up in a tree, or barely peeking his nose and mouth out of a coffin of thick mud. Under the still blanket of night, when he had to keep quiet or suffer the fate he had seen befall so many – that was when his thoughts overtook him.
