Little Lamb

She fingered the matted fur, but it felt like fine silk to her fingers. Most of the stuffing was gone, but it was plump enough in her eyes.

To think that a child—half goddess, half mortal—would die at such a young age, of such a common sickness… impossible. But it happened, nevertheless. That family had passed long ago, and the stuffed lamb was her only tangible memory of it. It brought her back to places long past visited, darkness she wished not to bring back to her vision.

But she cherished it, no matter how painful it was.