Dragoncrest Cliffs the girl has always been half goddess, half hell

Eske apologized and announced her departure in guilty, sorrowful tones. Wildfire just stared after her before turning to face her son's body again. A mournful noise crept up her throat, a low wail that echoed dully off the wooden walls of the den even as she ever so gently bundled the dead Phoenix into her arms, pressing his limp, cooling corpse against the place where her own heart beat miserably in her chest. She delicately pressed her nose against his tiny head, inhaling his scent for the last time.

And then she began to sob, her grief cutting so hard and deep that she wasn't aware of anything else—the commander's eventual arrival back at the den, the other pups' cries and movements, the soft rain that began to fall as if to herald the tragedy—as she wept endlessly over the little life cut cruelly short.