The rest of their Ferris wheel ride is a quiet one, but Ashara is... content. Content to sit there with Ned’s arm around her and their hands clasped together. It is... wonderful. Almost a dream. Only it is very, very real, and she feels the loss of his hand even as she once more slips her arm through his.

She thinks for a moment, contemplating the choices around them. “There’s a great deal of food on sticks,” she observes in amusement. “What about that?” She points at a food stand proclaiming to have something called... “Corndogs?” She cannot even begin to figure out that particular food item is.