Without warning, Matoya rose to her feet and shuffled over to the fire. Age had long sense paid its toll on her, but today especially she felt particularly weary. In all her long years, never had she been so vexed with the prospect of seeing them come to and end, yet knowing that it was not the time. With a mighty groan from the effort it took, she bent and put her kettle on for tea.

"I would like to see it end." Possibly the most frank admittance anyone would ever get from her, and that only because she was feeling her age and crotchety. "Your presence here is a mistake. No matter what lifetime he lives, Garland always makes mistakes. He is too rash. It is his weakness and to our benefit."

Back to the table she wobbled, easing into the chair with a weary sigh. A storm would arrive in two days, and it made her bones ache.