Sequoia Coast From the ashes

Eventually Reverie was strong enough for the journey. She'd kept her distance from @Lestan, not wanting to make things more difficult than they needed to be. But it was still difficult. She cried and felt numb by turns; she hid herself from @Blossom when she couldn't contain it, and was robotic with her when she could. The guilt was ever-present. Her daughter deserved better than this.
But she couldn't seem to keep the faint tremble from her limbs as they set foot on the land bridge, the three of them, traveling together for perhaps the last time. She couldn't seem to stop herself from turning to Lestan —
Later, she would not be able to recall who had said it first: that they should turn back, that they couldn't leave things this way. She would not remember who had embraced the other first. Only that they had, and that for a shining moment, she'd felt that maybe everything would be okay. Maybe there was hope. There's always time, when you need it. Wasn't that what Bridget had said?
But time has a funny way of slipping by, spilling into the wind and scattering there. In the next moment, she was distracted. Do you hear that? Reverie murmured, and her eyes turned to the sky. There was something there that she'd never seen before, something so bright she could hardly stand to look at it. And it was getting closer. Too late she found fear, and tried to shield Blossom, tried to hurry her away, toward the island — but then there was a sharp pain in her side, and then there was only brightness, and then there was nothing at all.

...

The thing that Reverie didn't know, couldn't know, was that she never would have recovered in the Teekon Wilds. Not fully. Not forever. Bridget was a brilliant healer, but some things were beyond any wolf.
So it was a blessing, truly, when she woke briefly in a place that seemed too bright, too pale; then again with Blossom and Lestan at her side in an unfamiliar land, a land with hard boundaries like nothing she'd seen, and others who seemed content with their gilded cage. A new way of life, an unending sort of peace. In time, the angry pink lines of her incisions faded to scars.
In time, the Mayfair family learned to forget fear. Nothing would ever hurt them again.