Emberwood i don't know how to love anything without sinking my teeth into it

Lotte smiles, but her heart aches as her daughter begins to fall asleep — she can feel the distance growing between them, inexorable and inevitable. “I love you, Mallaidh. I love you, Furi. I love you by whatever name you choose to call yourself.” She feels as though she is being pulled from her own body. She can see, panning away from her, the two forms curled together — and beyond them, a crumbling at the edges of the dream that signifies finality. She doesn’t hear the coyote’s cry or see the green-eyed black wolf who approaches her daughter, but instead sees her own body beginning to shift and change.

At once, she is certain that the girl will be privy to her bruised and broken form in the last moments of her life, and she tries to get her daughter up and away from the hollow shell as she fades wholly away. “Mallaidh,” she says, speaking patiently and firmly so the girl does not panic. “Get up. Get up, my girl.” She sees her own mouth move, sees her own broad muzzle nudge the small girl nestled at her flank — and then she sees no more.