He didn't think about it often. But when he did, it hit him hard. The slip. The news. He remembered the funeral. A soft rain, pouring onto the faces of mourners. He remembered the promise. That one would be the best. The dreams. The growth. The fights. The duels. It was too much to bear. It flooded him. Like a tsunami washing over his entire mind, pulling and tugging him away. On these blue moons, he would find himself in the crow's nest, sobbing and weeping until he had cried himself dry. No one else knew. He thought. But she heard. During these blue moons, she placed her eyes in ears in the crow's nest. She did not tell anyone else though; what she saw. He was proud, and entitled to his pain. She would let him have his moments of weakness.