Blackfeather Woods bitter pill

For a few days, all she did was walk. Traveled down the paths once so familiar to her, a familiarity lost to time. Breathed in the scent of the Willow, and thought of Cicero as she continued on in a daze. Left a sacrifice for Mephala at the Temple, saying a silent prayer for all who she had lost. Curled up in her old den in Spiderling's Glen, cuddling with the feather she'd unearthed--the one Euron had given her, long ago.

It was a shred of its former self, a dark spine with a few scraggly feathers clinging. But if she brought it to her nose, she could swear she smelled her brother again.

Once she had readjusted to her old home, her duties began. First and foremost was seeking out Mou, someone she hadn't thought for a million years would be here. How had he come to be here? The journey from the isle to Blackfeather was not so difficult, but it was far from straightforward. Was he familiar with these woods--did he know someone here?

Sithis. She thought of the way he had whispered the word; then, she had assumed he was simply parroting her in a vain attempt to speak. Could it be that Sithis was already known to him, somewhere deep within?

These questions all rose up, a storm within her mind, when she saw him walking, pacing. Maegi gave a low whine and came closer, head tilted to one side. He hadn't appeared to recognize her, at the border--but then, his pupils had been large and dark owing to some toxin or another. Poppies, perhaps; she recognized the glazed look, from his previous recuperation. From Potema, too. . .

"Mou," she called quietly, still several paces away from her friend. She didn't want to come any closer, lest she startle him.

Lest he had come here to get away from her, in the first place.

Yes, her insecurities reared their ugly heads even here.