Blackfeather Woods lord of the flies

She heard a faint voice behind her, and turned to look. In her dazed state, she thought it was Cicero, come to fetch her away from the tree once more. Upon closer inspection, though, it was in fact Euron, eyes filled with concern. That was good, then. Euron she'd speak to;  Cicero. . .

"Euron," she greeted succinctly, after taking a few wobbly steps to meet him. The edges of him were blurred, undefined, as if he were one of the many spirits that haunted these woods. Was he dead? Was she dead? Perhaps all three of the Blackfeather babes had been killed by their mother upon birth, and were doomed to walk the earth and terrorize Potema for her sins, forever.

"Don't get too close to the tree," she said matter-of-factly, her tone tinged with the sort of haughtiness that came from carrying wisdom others did not know. "It's poison." Though that didn't quite explain why she had been hanging out there. Something drew her to the sickly place; she felt more spiritual, more peaceful here.

"What is it?" Maegi asked, her voice sublimely casual.