The silence did not feel empty. It seemed to belong to the lake itself, deep and patient now that the sky had gone dark again.
Willow leaned against the railing of the yacht with her elbows resting on the smooth wood while the water below reflected only scattered starlight. Each faint ripple trembled softly as the vessel shifted against the slow breathing of the lake. The air had cooled enough that she felt it along her arms, and a breeze moved quietly across the open water carrying the faint scent of pine and stone. Somewhere along the distant shoreline kitchens were still awake, sending the warm scent of food drifting through unseen windows.
Behind her the candles on the dinner table burned lower, their small flames flickering across the glassware and polished silver before settling again into steady light.
