How could she?

     “Lan-Oea, we have longed for your company and now you do not wish us to leave as before,” gloated Gemkai’akai.  “How is it you have been able to survive in misery without us?”
     “Look at her!  She did not triumph.  She is weaker than when we left her.  She wears a façade,” taunted Zegbuk.
     “Ah, how right you are,” celebrated Skadzib.  “Her body carries many scars even with me around.”
     Taladmoord sighed heavily, “My, my, my, I hear you have given up time and time again.  This does cause my heart to leap with joy.”
     “It is not your time, Bindini.  You must leave me,” pushed Lan-Oea.  She attempted to argue, but Bindini knew there was no point.  Backing away slowly, she turned toward the rising moon.
     Lan-Oea snickered at the assembly before attempting to depart on her own.  Taladmoord blocked her path.  Once again, she tried to move, but the others had attacked her from behind slamming her to the ground.  Wanting desperately to scream, but noise was not there.  Closing her eyes, she escaped to “her” place to hide.
     Water splattered over the boulders, tripping and dancing along the way.  It was music to her ears.  It laughed and sung with each additional splash.  Soon, she could hear it the voice, that voice, the only thing that would comfort her when she felt lost and alone.
      The words turned into a melody so familiar a single tear made its way down her cheek.  With all of her might, she tried to force her eyes to open fearing at the same time this precious tune would disappear.  Nothing moved, the harder she tried, each muscle refused its job.
     Silence engulfed them as they marveled at the sight.  How Terba longed for her precious one to share in this symphony of color . . .