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

Maegi began to crumple as if wounded herself, each word of Coelacanth cutting into her like claws. Hurt me many. She was not stupid. She knew what ugliness, what evil, resided within the dark woods. She knew that her family had done wrong. But never before--to her knowledge--had she met the gaze of one who'd been wronged by Blackfeather. . .and a wolf she liked, at that.

She felt an intense mixture of emotions, shame chief among them. But intrigue, hidden in the depths. Teaghlaigh. She folded the name away in her brain for later use. And at the description the inky woman gave, a look of wonder bloomed over her face, realization sinking in.

"Nyx," she whispered, the pretty face coming immediately to mind. Of course the gentle Apaata temptress had helped Coelacanth. Her respect for her friend went up tenfold. "I know her. She still lives there."

Then Coelacanth spoke again, and Maegi shook her head, almost frantic, looking up at the leader with sorrowful eyes. "No," she burst out. "You-- you don't have to go back. I don't want you to have to go back." She swallowed thickly, sniffling a little. "I know. . .I know they hurt others. Others came to hurt us, too." It was the first time she'd ever talked about the war to a stranger. "Please, Coelacanth. . .I promise I'll go back alone. Only when I'm ready to.

"I know what it's like to be hurt," Maegi whispered. "You don't have to go through it again, just to take me home."