It was the hardest journey of her life so far, and she'd already weathered some difficult ones. Hungry and tired, but too afraid to approach a mother with a young pup, she remained a distance behind, merely trying to keep the woman in her sights.

Perhaps this hadn't been worth it. Now home felt even further away, and there was no refuge to be found.

Everything changed when Maegi crossed a rise and the glittering expanse of blue-green rose before her. Awed, the girl stared for a long moment, jaw agape. What brilliant field was this? Stumbling in her exhausted excitement, Maegi made her way to the flatlands, paws sinking in the unfamiliar white-gold dirt. The cries of foreign birds rang out overhead; a pungent smell ruled over all--almost like blood, but fresher, cleaner.

The field broke apart in ripples, cresting into lines of white--like long clouds--before dissolving into nothing. Maegi approached and was shocked, letting out a giggle, to have a wave roll against her ankles and found that it was water. It was all water. Infinitely vaster than the pond in Spiderlings' Glen.

She was so enamored by this newness that she had lost track of the woman, and felt a momentary surge of panic. Then she noticed the bar of land that cut through the water, with the mother's scent and tracks trailing across it. She was far off, a dancing shadow in the distance, and--with a newfound resolve--Maegi crossed the land bridge, eyes flashing back and forth as she struggled to take everything in at once.

Finally, she came near to the woman's side, a small, white shadow. She kept a distance from the young pup, remembering how defensive Relmyna had been of her babes--so different from her own mother! But, then, that had been Potema--but looked up at the warrior she-wolf, head cocked in fascination.

"I followed you from Bearclaw Valley," she said bluntly, not wasting a moment on small talk. Her gaze raked across the paradise in which she now found herself. "Where are we?"

A brown figure burst onto the scene, galloping across the silken ground, an expression of happiness set on her face. She greeted the mother--was Vennine her name, or a word in a tongue she didn't know?--and came to a halt. The woman from Bearclaw touched her under the chin, but Maegi hung back, tail low, eyes wary.

She could feel the dark stare on her, and knew the woman must be judging her for her deformities. And why not? She couldn't see herself, unless she looked into still water--something she hadn't worked up the courage to do, yet--but she knew she must look quite ghoulish. Nevertheless, the girl kept a brave face, one side of her mouth arced in a permanent smile, the other corner blandly neutral.

The stranger loomed over her, fur puffed out, face brooking no opposition. Thus addressed, she said, "Maegi," and left it at that, hoping that was enough for the woman. She'd seen this song and dance before. She knew what it was to have to defend a territory. . .and she knew the dangers of strangers infiltrating said territory.

She resisted the urge to laugh, suddenly. She was the farthest thing there was from a threat right now, scrawny and starving, a girl just shy of seven moons. To be met with such aggression--

"Where are we?" Maegi asked the Bearclaw woman again, turning to look at her. Clearly at the borders of a pack, but which one? And would they be familiar with her scent, her family? Her stomach rumbled, and she knew that it was a risk she would have to take, if she wanted to eat anytime soon. She watched the sort of dance the mother was doing, ears rolling forward in curiosity.

Maegi was utterly bewildered. Here was a game she did not know how to play, a game without words, only actions. For all they were a quiet lot, tracking through the darkness, the Blackfeather wolves had their prayers. They spoke, and listened. But her words here had gone unanswered, and no greeting--at least in her tongue--had been given, save her name, which was now being barked at her.

The nudge on her side would have thrown her off balance in any situation; tired and hungry as she was, she tumbled over into the sand, scrambling and failing to keep her footing. She attempted to get into a sitting position, but her heavy limbs would not allow it. This was the first time in a while she'd lain down, and sleep pulled at each cell of her body like an insistent child, tugging at its mother's tail.

Her eyelids fluttered as she looked up at the brown woman, ears falling not backwards but sideways across her head. She was only faintly aware of her exposed belly, and the danger to which that left her vulnerable; the world of dreams was calling, louder and louder. . .

Shapes moved about her, colorless and almost without form as her vision blurred, darkened. She wondered if there was a difference between the clutches of sleep and of death. What was death but slipping into a deep sleep? Had Miraak's adrenaline faded into a peaceful acceptance as he exsanguinated?

A muzzle near her face, a long tongue sweeping over her ears. Soft crooning voice. A pair of eyes, bluer than anything she'd seen before, blinking kindly at her. The warmth of someone curled nearby. The pungent smell of meat, so enticing it made her stomach gurgle audibly, but she couldn't find the strength to lap it up.

It was calm, serene. If the strangers intended to wake her with their ministrations, she knew it not. She was being lulled into drowsy contentment, finally resting peacefully for the first time in--gods, how long had it been? When had she last been this happy? As a child, perhaps. Snuggled with. . .

"Ram. . .Euron. . ." The whisper slipped from her lips before she promptly fell asleep.