Wheeling Gull Isle i’m not superstitious, but i’m a little stitious

Blackfeather, I know. Her ears folded back as the words sunk in, her eyes widening with excitement--and fear. She knew Blackfeather?! And the cave of which she spoke. . .Maegi couldn't be sure, but she thought she had passed by it, once or twice, in the tunnels. Her breath came short as she noticed the fear in Coelacanth's eyes.

She had heard the echoes of screams, in the tunnels. From the daedra. . .or other living souls? Maegi was afraid she had found her answer.

The girl dipped her head, shaking it in an infinitesimal nod. She wanted to go home. . .yet, at the same time, she felt abandoned by the Woods, and all who dwelled in them. Moonshadow had come looking for her--not Sascha, her kin. Nyx, her friend. Kove, her mentor. None of them had cared enough to find her. Else they would have come with the black-furred she-wolf, not the pale stranger that had appeared in their stead.

Meanwhile, the seawolves had given her a home, fed her, appreciated her. . . She missed home, but maybe she only missed the home she remembered--not the home it became, after the war. The home without Ramsay and Euron, Cicero, Miraak. The home indelibly changed by intruders, by violent conflict.

"Thank you," Maegi whispered, lost for words. She looked up at Venninne, and smiled, giving Coelacanth the barest touch of her ruined muzzle before curling into the embrace of the tall, brown woman. "Thank you for letting me stay here."