“Loss is never easy to cope with,” Derrix said dryly, looking back at the surrounding environment and sucking in a deep breath, as if it wasn’t going to be just a puff of lavender.

	“Learn from the flower,” Derrix sighed, pulling old sayings into his mind wishing his books were at his nose as he spoke, “we enjoy its sight, but mourn its withers. However, should we feed the thought of it’s passing, we might forget its living. Focus on the having, not the losing, even if the flower is no longer. And remember that we should remember the pink of the pedals in spring and not the brown of the stem in winter.”

	Derrix nearly crossed his eyes at his words, not knowing if the old proverbs were really helping. He coughed and nodded to himself, “you’re smart, I think you know what I’m getting at.”

	He closed his mouth and refocused on his surroundings, making sure not a rustle or twitch missed his scouting gaze.