Blackfeather Woods a turtle has made it to the water

at one time, relmyna had devoted herself daily to the rock of tongues, but she had fallen from that path. and yet the winds that twisted through the all but empty temple of blackfeather brought to her the scent of those she had loved. for a moment, the woman quailed; what magick was this that she had wrought?
but her stride lengthened; the patchwork wolfess would not be held back from what had transpired. and as she moved beneath the shadowed branches, her heart unburdened itself: sithis and mephala had heard her prayer. and relmyna knew then she no longer needed the stone to be transported to their world; her piety had seen fit to grant her succor. 
the sons and one daughter of cicero stood in communion when the gamma arrived, her steps slowing to gently appraise the three of them. euron, his sinewy frame and melonii gaze all but restoring sheogorath to the wood. and ramsay, the stamp of the illict parentage having only hardened the boy into sable muscle and fierce indigo eyes. astara, too, unaccompanied for now by the ghost.
maegi was not with her brothers, relmyna noted, but swept forward with a low croon of welcome upon her lips. she knew not how she would be regarded by euron and ramsay, but blackfeather was their birthplace, their birthright. and the dark brother who had been their father had been someone relmyna knew in another time she might have loved. it was all the she-wolf needed to extend a maternal affection to his children, tempered by her innate reverence of the melonii bloodline.