Blackfeather Woods the stars, the moon, they have all been blown out

The passing of their sister was no sad day—

she would come again, as they would, as was prophesied, as it always had been and would be—

but that sister had spoken of a strange place, bereft of their faith. Here it was. None had spoken any of their names. So here in some place, they would find her reborn. Spirit stuck in the walls of some being. They had come to awaken her.

The wiry girl had munched on a rabbit to put to rest her belly that snarled furiously. With this success, their fast had ended. Ribs protruded from her sallow skin thinly covered in black-and-silver. And presently, her fangs moved to open the skin of her foreleg in a thin slash, small beads of blood pooling there, dribbling down only when that bead became too heavy to remain. Shego smeared the blood upon a set of old, yellowed bones she had found.