Trembling, Rue rolled over on her back, waiting for the dregs of the nightmare to leave her. If only she'd confessed, then things would have been so different. If only she'd been bold enough, she wouldn't be stuck in Goldkrone, left behind.
And, most horrifying, she'd started to forget things about the Mytho she loved. The dancing was ingrained in her bones, but the little things - the way he said, "I love you," or the curve of one of his rare smiles - were dissolving in her memory.
She'd draw him, but she was never much of an artist. And writing wasn't one of her skills, either - nor did she want anything to do with Writing.
There was nothing she could do but dance, a desperate pa de duex without a partner, just as Princess Tutu had shown her how to do so long ago.
