One Melonii indigo, one orange.

Maegi stared into the pool of clear mountain spring water, staring at her reflection. She had never taken the time, since her injury, to look at it before. Her mouth took her aback, but it was her eyes she was focused on, blinking gently back at herself.

If the indigo represented family, duty, tradition. . .what of the orange? The right eye ensured her mother could never deny her, for which other wolves in these lands had that twilight gaze? But orange came from Cicero, and orange occupied the damaged side of her face. If indigo was stability, orange was chaos.

Orange was Peryite.

She knew why Potema had named her that. Pestilence. . .she was a plague. A plague in the womb, a plague on the ground, a walking reminder of the horror that had befallen the priestess. The moniker held no love for the mother, and sometimes, Maegi was ashamed of it. Other moments, she felt a twisted kind of pride. Peryite. . .bringer of death and destruction. But not through blood and war. It was a silent sickness that swept through the lands, infecting all in its path.

Peryite, the lord of the damned, the diseased. Potema might have intended to doom her, with the name. But now Maegi realized that it was a blessing in disguise, cloaked in filthy rags.

"Peryite, lord of the plague, bringer of death
Receive my prayer. . ."

Her whisper rippled the surface of the pool, stirred the air around her. A feverish look entered her gaze--and while the Melonii side of her face stayed cool and impassive, the ravaged cheek was forever set in a wicked smile.

"Cast a plague upon my enemies
And your love upon the scorned--"

An all-too familiar, earthly voice calling her name interrupted her new prayer, and Maegi looked up, meeting Reed's eyes. Coolly, she straightened herself back up, coming to a sitting position and curling her tail around her forepaws. "Reed," she murmured, blinking slowly. She nodded at the bundle of herbs next to her friend. "What are those?"

Hopefully something fun, she thought wryly. Hemlock had been plying her with various plants to help her heal; Maegi was in no need of healing, only peace. And peace did not involve trying to fix what was broken inside her. She looked with some scrutiny at Reed's offering, now, wondering if she came of her own volition or if Hemlock had put her up to this. Reed was strong-willed, but still very much under the sway of her mother.

Luckily, Maegi didn't have that problem.

Great. An herb for babies. Quite the reflection on how Reed--and, by extension, Hemlock, too--thought of her, now. Trying to keep the disdain for her eyes, Maegi nodded, blinking in feigned gratitude at her friend. Her tongue, small and pink, extended from her lips the barest inch, taste-testing the leaves like a swimmer dipping their toe, ever-so-gingerly, in the water, to test for temperature.

To her surprise, it was a pleasing taste, after all, and she lapped one or two small pieces up, looking more genuine as she faced Reed again. "Thank you," she said, a small smile coming to her maw. "That is. . .nice. Really." She scooped the herbs closer to her with a paw, intending to save them for later, to eat them when she wasn't being stared down by the resident healer-in-training.

Maegi tilted her head, looking with interest at Reed. "What's up?" she asked casually, as if nothing at all of consequence had happened recently. "How are the babies?" She had been glad to see the little bundles of joy at her Mitexi, as she hadn't gone herself to visit them, still too scared of the consequences. Maybe she would go, soon. Would Coelacanth let her, after the poppy incident?

She smiled at Reed's admission. Maegi felt much the same way. Children were innocent, untouched by the horrors of life. They were kind, if sometimes brutally honest, and they wore their hearts on the outside. Mur and Fern were two of her favorite wolves on the island, and, if she took the time to get to know Coelacanth's and Stockholm's children better, they might worm their way into Maegi's heart as well.

"I haven't seen them since my Mitexi," Maegi answered, shaking her head. She shrugged. "I don't know what's keeping me from them. Just. . .don't know." She was at a loss, looking away. Perhaps Reed thought her uncaring, that she didn't take the time out of her day to visit the new guppies.

Her eyes met the young healer's again, after a moment of silence. "I'm fine, though," she continued, her voice a little wooden. "You don't need to worry about me." Well, on the contrary--but Maegi would never admit that. Much too proud for that.

Reed was showy. She had been from the moment Maegi had met her. The way she tossed her head, strutted around--she reminded her, in a way, of Yew. They both put on an act, though Reed's was for the better, and Yew. . . If Maegi believed in hell, she would hope that Yew was burning there. Nevertheless, it rubbed her the wrong way, and she was always pleased when Reed dropped the veil and was finally genuine.

Maegi snorted at her observation, waggling her paw in rueful illustration. "Physically, I'm a mess," she responded, trying to make a dark joke out of it. She sighed, closing her eyes for a long moment. Tongue pressed hard against her teeth, trying to figure out how to say what she wanted to say next--and if she wanted to say it, at all.

"Can I tell you something I haven't told anyone else here?" she asked, tilting her head. Without waiting for an answer, she forged on gingerly, as if walking on hot coals. "My parents were brother and sister. My mother didn't want me or my brothers. She wanted us dead."

There. It was out in the open. She stood stock-still, giving Reed a gimlet stare, as if challenging her to react poorly.