Blackfeather Woods and sleep as i in childhood sweetly slept,

she could not read the inscrutable expression beneath damien's wonder. sheogorath. cicero. the patterned toxicologist with whom she had experienced one moment of joy in a life otherwise colorless. and yet she had not loved him. relmyna knew not what she had felt for the man, beyond the keening of a sharp pain at knowing he was no more. nodding toward damien, the she-wolf blinked with a sudden weariness, searching the ground between them as if it held the secrets to continuing her message.
"ast .. asta," she went on, attempting to voice the syllables she was able of her nightcub's name. "av ... avah," and the daycub. silently she rested, lifting her gaze to damien only when she was able to go on. and if he did not understand her, she knew she had not the strength to repeat herself. "ss .. eh. fa ... her."
perhaps he knew already what she meant to say, and this was all for naught; relmyna wished to try all the same. with a final glance into the eyes of the man who might have been her brother-by-law, in a kinder world, the woman fell quiet.