She turned back and fell lightly to her knees beside him. Wrapping her arms around him from the side, she gave him a light squeeze before putting them in her lap and laying her head on his shoulder. The night sounds of bull frogs croaking and crickets chirping filled the night. "When my mother became sick, the doctors told us she didn't have much time." Her soft voice drifted around them. "She went downhill so quickly. They started her on treatment." She tilted her head back. The stars over head were out in full force, no clouds in the sky to mar them. "My father would sit with her and just hold her hand. I didn't accept what they were saying though. How could I have all this magic pouring from these hands," she held them out in front of her, "and not be able to do something to save her?" Her hands lowered and laid in her lap once more. "I used everything I knew to do, every potion, every herb and tonic I could think of to give her. We don't know what turned it around for her at the end. She lay so still one night and my father came to me. We sat beneath the stars and he turned to me and said, 'Cecily, everybody dies.' That's it. That was his great advice to me." An owl hooted over head in the tree. "But it stuck with me. It changed how I looked at death and at life." She turned her head and looked into his eyes. "Don't dwell on what could happen Nicolas," she whispered. "The here and now, today, might be all we have. Wouldn't you rather make the most out of every moment we're here?"