Felltree Marsh vihainen

What the fuck.
 
What the fuck.
 
I’m not so sure about this adult shit.
 
She slips from the border early in the afternoon. She doesn’t expect to go far; she’s not supposed to leave without a buddy, anyway. But it’s just to the tangle, where she’d run into Eirlys. Maybe she’s back and she can see her again and find some sort of peace to her now never-ending ache. She’s never felt like more of an outsider to Drageda than ever when she doesn’t have a single wolf she can talk to about it without revealing her whole charade. And what will they do then? Kill her? Were they like Blackfeather in that way?
 
A lump forms in her throat but she keeps going, skirting the edges of the tangle until she’s crossed the river and on to the other side. The day has faded away into night. She’s tired but her legs don’t stop moving, pushing her forward into territory she doesn’t know. She really should have told someone where she was going, just in case, but it’s too late at this point and it doesn’t matter if she turns back now or turns back later. At least later, she can say she tried.
 
The ground turns gross between her paws, cold and wet and frozen. No amount of shaking clears her of the mud clinging and seeping into her fur. A growl is heard not too far off and she freezes, slowly shifting back on her heels to back out of the situation and hightail it out of there but the wind blows and her heart skips a beat, and then falls out of her chest. Furi sucks in a breath and holds it a few seconds, slowly releasing and then urging herself forward. The moonlight illuminates the boy, the pattern, and silvers his colors; if it were not for the youthful curves she might be looking at her father.
 
She whispers, “Ceallach?”