Blackfeather Woods my legs refused to walk away

her senses expanded
they were near
the pale one with ragged path
relmyna did not pull her eyes from the sudden flurry of glossblack wings, and then a conspiracy of ravens spread out before them. the knowing glint of their gazes resting upon the listener and the young priestess. maegi inquired then into the wolfess' well-being; the turquoise stare did not attempt to hide the effects of the dose she had taken. 
i am —
i am dying, maegi, and i do not know the number of my days.
there! to say it aloud! finally, finally. and there passed such a peace over relmyna that she wove muzzily upon her paws, fighting for balance. at last her gaze drew from the ravens and she fixed its unblinking glimmer upon the young melonii. even the effort it took to form silent words now evaded relmyna, but the harsh voice of a raven drove them from her all the same.
i know i have failed you —
for pretending at motherhood when i should have guided your steps.
the last she finished in thought, unable to speak the sentiment into existence. but it was true, was it not? she was not the mother of cicero's earlier brood; she should never have attempted to be so. they needed no mother, those three; the shadows of blackfeather had reared them. and what of her own? what life could there be for daughters that did not speak nor exist within a mortal sphere? why had cicero been taken?
too many questions.
relmyna turned back to the ravens.