Ren's bright green eyes sparkled with desperate hope as Altair stared silently down at her. She squeezed his hand again, silently praying that he would finally give her something. Anything. She would have gladly accepted a generic, dismissive statement like, 'My family is big,' or 'We like to fly.' Just a single crumb of his heavily guarded life.
The silence stretched on for what felt like an eternity. The only sound in the garden was the gentle rustling of the bioluminescent ferns in the night breeze.
Just as Ren's shoulders began to slump and she was ready to give up, Altair finally opened his mouth.
"My father," Altair spoke, his deep voice barely above a gravelly whisper.
He stopped right there, clamping his mouth firmly shut again.
