Tell Me It Gets Easier [Asharya]

Long, golden rays stretched out over the horizon as Ashiel entered the garden. Mæva had fallen ill again and he found himself uncertain what to do. The illness was mild and he knew she would get over it but it troubled him that it seemed to be so frequent. He'd woken early, roused from another nightmare by her coughing. He'd taken her to Serene for treatment and then promptly failed to fall back to sleep.

There was a soft breeze this morning, carrying with it a hint of moisture that likely would not develop into anything. It was the dry season. Rains were infrequent and the temperatures would soon climb. The earth would bake. Hardy plants still clung to life in the garden but a number of them were bleak and lifeless. Dried up husks soon to be swept away in the roiling winds. He settled down, trying to calm his mind. As his eyes turned to the horizon he saw a swath of dark clouds building, cutting through the golden rays of dawn's light.

"Talk"