Barrow Fields curled inward in the night, a curious thing, love

Ha. No it wouldn't.

Moorhen was looking for the Shadow, who had disappeared from the Island without a trace, leaving only the scent of impending fertility behind. And Moorhen knew that smell - knew what it meant. She thought of Venninne and of Laurel and wondered if they had yet borne their young unto the world. She thought of Wardrunna and Poet, and wondered how they were getting along without her. Did they miss her? Did they still think of her at all?

Moorhen thought of them all as she paced through the field, intent on finding the Shadow and bringing her back home. And they would be having words. Not many of them, but enough for the Shadow to know of Moorhen's displeasure, and hopefully enough from the Shadow to assure her lamb that she would never disappear like this again.

But all that fled her mind at the familiar sight before her. "Poet?" the dardark girl whispered to herself, peering at the dark shape in the distance.