Word Count: 474

“Is this spring or summer, do you think?” Valhalla asked.

Ganymede had her eyes closed and couldn't see him, but she felt him lying there beside her, far enough away to seem uncharacteristically formal, but close enough for their hands to touch.

The weather on Ganymede was warmer at this time of year than it was on Earth. Here the skies remained blue and the sun threw its light upon the world; there the skies were gray and snow laden, the winds brisk, the trees dormant, the world stifled and dead. Ganymede felt like a paradise in comparison, at least if one were to ignore the destruction all around.

“Dunno,” Ganymede said,

Beneath her back were patches of grass and soil. Wildflowers sprouted all around—small and delicate, but thriving. In the distance behind them was a line of barren trees; across the field straight ahead was the imposing facade of the royal palace.

Ever so slowly, the world was awakening. Timidly and with great pains. Yet since the time the skies had changed from black night to bright blue daylight, Ganymede could feel the difference. It was in the very air, soft and warm as it caressed her cheek; it was in the ground upon which she walked, tendrils of energy which sprouted flowers and healed the dormant trees. She could feel the heart of her world beating far beneath the ground, in a core gone silent for so long.

Thump-thump... thump-thump... thump-thump...

“What are you thinking about?” Valhalla asked.

If only there were birds flying overhead. If only she could hear the long, low, mournful train whistle of Liesel's memories.

“Nothing,” Ganymede said.

Though her eyes remained closed, Ganymede sensed that Valhalla turned his head the look at her. He must be worried, she thought, as he always was when she came here. Even after all this time, he did not understand how she felt about this place—how at peace with herself she felt while she was there, how safe she knew herself to be.

“You seem so far away,” Valhalla said. His hand shifted so that their fingers could twine together. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” Ganymede said calmly. “Nothing's wrong.”

Everything was so far from wrong when she was here. On Ganymede, everything felt right. All was as it was meant to be. She greeted the world with fondness, and it cherished her in turn. She soaked in the warm light above and the pulsing energy at her back, and she felt whole again. Unbroken. The terrors she'd faced the month before slowly faded away as the world around her soothed a troubled mind and an aching heart.

Valhalla said nothing else. Ganymede turned her hand in his grasp to offer a comforting squeeze, and opened her eyes to stare up at a bright, endless sky.