The decision was a cold, dead thing now that it was over. Their chests still heaved in anger, eyes wet with unshed tears, but the fire was subsiding. The words had clawed to come out for so long; both too afraid to ask what the other really thought. There was no going back now.
With no more words to say, they sat in the chill air and stared off into the distance—together, but alone. There would be steps to take, eventually. Now there was only sorrow mingled with relief, and the blush of the setting sun.
Phoebe Darqueling 