Blackfeather Woods Just gotta get out, just gotta get right outta here

She gathered the bones of the young cripple, gently moving and burying them as befit a member, however brief, of their Order. The skull she kept, small and preserved, holding it in her maw as she scraped the final clumps of dirt over the rest of her body. This she would use for her own purposes. The rest of his body was practically useless now, but his skull breathed power.

She swore that she heard the child's squealing coming through the Void, but as she sat and listened, she realized that it was real. And coming from somewhere else. She ventured towards the sound, her brow furrowed, until she saw her brother staring off into the distance. She brushed against his side, the skull still tight her in jaw as she peered at Althaia and her cubs fading into the distance.

There were no curses from her lips as before when Malice and Burke disappeared. She was more sad than anything. She hoped Althaia would stay, if not for her sister's sake than for her own. The witch put the skull down, her words breathing mist into the early morning air. My heat should come within the next moon, She reminded him, seeing his tense stance.