[Oh. She’s healed it. She’s made it more than it was. He can see the life and excitement thrumming from it — and she’s smiling wide, in a way that he’s seen so rarely from her.
He doesn’t know what to do for a moment, other than hold out his palm and wait for the spider to skitter back to it. Henry doesn’t answer her question at first; there’s the distinct feeling that he’s just… confused, briefly.]
Why…?
[Why did she do it? He cannot know the reasoning, because she surely does not go about healing all the small, hurt things in her gardens.]
no subject
He doesn’t know what to do for a moment, other than hold out his palm and wait for the spider to skitter back to it. Henry doesn’t answer her question at first; there’s the distinct feeling that he’s just… confused, briefly.]
Why…?
[Why did she do it? He cannot know the reasoning, because she surely does not go about healing all the small, hurt things in her gardens.]