Amara took her first steps across the mossy stone path at the conservatory. Her shoulder was wrapped in a light bandage beneath her soft, oversized sweater, and though she was still a little unsteady, the urge to be among living things had become overwhelming.
Darien was right beside her. He didn't hold her arm, he knew she valued the feeling of her own strength returning, but his hand remained a constant, hovering presence near her back. He was tuned to her every breath, his eyes scanning the path for any uneven stone that might cause her to stumble.
"I used to dream of places like this," Amara murmured, stopping before a massive, broad-leafed tropical plant that looked like it belonged in a prehistoric jungle. "When I was in the orphanage, I would stare at the peeling green paint in the hallways and try to imagine a forest so thick you couldn't see the ceiling."
