"I am here, Dearest Songbird…" Jerrick's voice was a low murmur, each syllable laced with an unspoken vow as his lips found hers. He kissed her deeply, as if he could draw out the pain with each tender press of his mouth. It was a kiss meant to soothe, to anchor her back to him, and in that exchange, he felt something shift.
Whether he was truly swallowing her grief or his own steady calm was tempering her distress, he didn't know. But slowly, gradually, her sobs softened, her trembling ceased, and she melted into his embrace like a weary bird finding shelter from the storm.
"I'm here," he whispered, his forehead resting against hers, their breaths mingling in the intimate closeness. "I'm not dying that easily, Mynah." He wanted to believe those words, to make them real just by saying them aloud.
He remembered too vividly the sound of her heart-wrenching wails when she first touched the tree. The agony of that memory was etched into his soul.
