Leigh heard Corby’s remark to Misha and followed her into the kitchen.
“Corby,” she asked softly as she helped the girl toss the dishes, “What are you doing?”
“Making more cocoa and tea,” Corby stated and proceeded to do just that.
“No,” Leigh continued to help, “to keep us safe, what are you doing? Why do you have the mark?”
Corby remained silent, but Leigh pressed on. “Can I help in some way?”Corby shook her head. “Please?” Corby just stared at her. “I’m more the odd Musketeer out than you. I have power to use, no skill to give and even my thoughts are muddled. Please?”
Leigh shook her head. What was she doing, burdening a young woman with her own issues. “I’m sorry,” she said and turned and left. Rather than go back to the living room, where Corby delivered the warm drinks, Leigh walked down the hall away from the door. Her head was confused. She needed to ride to un-muddle herself.
Riding was the only way she’d survived during her father’s illness and after his death. It had been how her father had survived her mother’s death and Leigh’s coma. Riding had brought them together when she woke. She couldn’t give up now. Stepping in front of the bus had been giving up. The ironic part was, she had though she was doing her parents a favor.
Shadow whispers assaulted her ears form the corridor in front of her. Leigh quickly turned on her heal only to see there were shadows behind her. Idiot, she thought. I should have done my pacing in the kitchen.