Scout considers the metaphor some more, turning it over and watching the light in its broad current, and more sparsely departing, dispersing. Returning? The flyaways look like sparks rising from a fire, but the context is different. They're not drifting away to die alone.

"You're right. It makes a lot of things harder sometimes, but it's a privilege too." She stretches her arm out towards the river, just to watch the light between her fingers. Scout feels heavily weighted down, but not in a bad way. "It would be a shame to miss this."