[/html]Most of all, she wondered if their father believed he would find his wife. He had stopped telling them stories about her months ago and seemed to have made an effort not to mention her much. She had been absent in their day to day lives for as long as she could remember, so it was an easy thing to forget except in those quiet evening moments when Kharma sat alone and was silent, with distant, sad eyes looking out the window. If Cassandra felt anything towards their mother it was resentment for leaving, not her children, but her mate. Kharma had said she'd left to find something, but what could possibly be more important?
Most of all, she wondered what their father thought might happen if they did find her. Would they return here? Would they be a whole, complete family at last? Would Rachias want that?
And if Kharma didn't believe (and who would blame him?), then what were they looking for, really?
"It's false hope, if not," the pallid girl said. "If we don't think we'll find her, then it's just a pretense." Perhaps there was bitterness in her voice. "We could just call it a vacation, if that's really what this is." Calling it a search left it open ended. Calling it a vacation meant that certainly, absolutely, they would come home, and that this was still home.
Cassandra leaned against the armrest of the worn old couch; it was a faded teal with some tacky sort of pattern on it, but it was comfortable. "I guess it will be nice to see beyond these hills, but..." She frowned and shrugged, not looking at her sister. "I don't know. I think daddy should try to find someone else..."
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