That sounded easy enough. Yorda accepted the brush with a smile and watched the other paint for a few moments, thinking of what she wanted to paint. She'd always liked the birds on her island, the way they'd flutter hesitantly near, chirping curiously at her, even if they flew away if she so much as drew near.

She dipped the paintbrush into the white paint and moved over to the wall, carefully sweeping the brush over the stone with an unsure hand in the rough outline of a bird, its wings outstretched.