Hushed Willows I'm ready to leave it, I'll go when I feel it

Mae couldn't bring herself to say goodbye. She followed her father from the den swiftly, as if fire followed her. Reverie was crying back there, she was sure of it, and she had no intention of sticking around for that. Not today, Satan.

When they'd put a healthy distance between themselves and the den, Mae finally slowed. She let out a breath, laughing softly. Sometimes I wish she was my mother, Mae confessed, embarrassment tinging the words. She wasn't sure why she was telling him; he of all wolves wouldn't appreciate the sentiment, and he'd just watched her nearly run from the woman. But he was her father, and she didn't know who else she would tell. It was important to her, for some reason, that someone saw the contradiction. Why not him? He was the only other wolf who made her feel that way.

She didn't say anything else for many more miles.