She feels broken — though she'll not admit it — and weathered away. The attack, then prison, then the threat of it all linger like the early April storms they wade through each day to and from the Abbey. It has felt like penance for a long time, that walk. She has changed, but his love for her hasn't. She understands better now how his eyes would cloud over, go distant after his release. Bless him, her husband. He has been ever-fixed, her North Star in the wandering dark, even when he was away. He'd never know his true worth to her, and her measured words fell short. She is no fool, she won't have forever with him. The hours and weeks with out him ticked on - time harvested forever. She tracks through the tempest, knows all of it's moot, she'll bear it out even to the edge of doom.