Genesis' suggestions were heart-achingly practical. Sensible, mundane solutions for a problem that went so much further beyond the realm of sense than the girl could possibly know. And yet, at their core, there was a wisdom there: things are not always as hopeless as they appear.
Qebhet sniffed and brushed away the moisture that clung to her lashes. "You're right," she agreed. "Of course you're right. I shouldn't jump so quickly to conclusions." Everything about the situation boded ill, but Qebhet knew so little of what had happened between Kaden's flight and Ares' retrieval of Telos. Silence could spell a battle lost, but it could also signal recuperation time, a hurried escape, an excess of caution. And could she say for sure that Hecate hadn't lost her phone in the race to reach Kaden?
It was a slender hope. Perhaps she didn't really believe it. But she clung to it all the same.
"I suppose I..." Qebhet shook her head. "I just wish I could do more than wait. It leaves so much time to imagine the worst." She caught herself then, her expression twisting with a mix of gratitude and apology as she looked across at Genesis. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't, I didn't mean to— that is—"