Sleeping Dragon but stars burn out, my dear, and everything golden dies

The firmly spoken no stopped her in her tracks. Wildfire turned her body if not her head, brows pinching together quizzically. No...? Magpie glared and the yearling shrank. She didn't understand why her aunt was angry with her but, as ever, she hated it—someone being angry with her, that was—and wanted to do whatever she could to smooth things over. Her head bowed in submission but soon Magpie shouldered right past her, removing herself from the commander's den. Amber eyes tracked her until all Wildfire could make out was her white markings. Then she disappeared entirely into the darkness.

The yearling blinked several times, then turned only when Thuringwethil asked, "What was that?" "I... have no idea," Wildfire immediately replied, her voice a whisper. She felt the urge to cry come over her, yet she repressed it, blinking half a dozen more times to will away the threat of budding tears. Her face felt hot. "I seriously don't know what that was. We've always gotten along." Her lower lip trembled but she bit down on it before muttering, "I thought she'd be happy to have me here."

The meeting and looming war had been stressful enough, then Wildfire had gone and blurted out some random, inexplicable declaration of who-knows-what. Now this. Her aunt inexplicably hated her. Her eyelids fluttered and she found she couldn't totally hold back the tears which threatened. There were just too many emotions going on here. She did her best to look away, hide her face from the Heda, while mumbling very stupidly, "There's something in my eye."