.3.
Her hands are as soft as silk, they say. So soft they barely feel her cool touch when she runs her soothing palms down their arms, uttering comforting words as they cry. She is desperate to help, they whisper as they follow her light. Someone mutters about whether she has a lover or not as she wards of the darkness, the biting cold and the searing heat, keeping their safe bubble intact.
A whisper breaks loose, a whisper that states the speaker wish it was, causing shocked and paralyzed looks. No one knows who said those words. All of them want to be the one brave enough to voice everyone's thoughts.