Her mother used to sing, she remembers that much. Something about music revives even the simplest of memories, from sitting on her father’s knee in the Skirmisher common room while people danced to her mother’s songs, to being held in her arms while she sang a lullaby. Robyn remembers her father trying the same when she was sick one time; it didn’t have the same finesse, the love and intention was there, and that was what mattered.
“What’s that tune you’re humming?”
Robyn looked up from where she was re-fletching a few recycled arrows, right into Elyn’s beaming face. She couldn’t help but smile back.
“Just a song my mother used to sing,” she answered, carefully whittling the arrow shaft to remove any lumps that would disrupt its flight.
"What's it about?"
"I can't remember all words, or if she made it up, but some of the lines are that, no matter how far he may roam, a hero would always come home." Robyn lifted the arrow to her eyeline, checking the level before setting it down to join the pile she had finished. "I guess it was to make me feel better when my father was away."
"Oh yeah, he was a Skirmisher too right?"
"A long time ago, yeah. He left when my mother died."
Elyn looked crestfallen. "It must be hard having another family to care for. I can't ever imagine leaving the Skirmishers."
"Me either.”