Mendoza
The overlook fire was still burning when I reached the lower trail again.
From down here the flames looked small—too small for the weight they carried tonight. Just a pinprick of orange against the dark ridge, flickering like it wasn’t sure it wanted to keep going.
I stopped under the pines and leaned against the rough bark of the tallest one. The new bottle of wine was gone from my hand, left behind like an offering I wasn’t sure would be accepted. I could still smell the elderberry on the breeze, mixed with cedar smoke and the faint, sharp trace of Benjamin’s tension.
And her.
Always her.
Olivia’s scent lingered strongest...lavender from the garden, earth under her nails, and that quiet, electric thread of gold that had started weaving through her ever since the cage
