Blackfeather Woods your beauty makes them weak

it was not for wintersbane to question the gods, the listener wished to inform him crisply. but no — her heart softened. he was undoubtedly a man of logic, and his willigness to ask questions made the northerner a valuable sort indeed. the melonii line built blackfeather. with the help of others, of course; kove is not a melonii. nor i.
a sigh; kove's reserved nature did not suggest he was one with the spirits of the wood. and yet, he was one of the dark brothers. and she, not one of the family, attuned all the same. she was no one, really, relmyna supposed of herself. a pause; her gaze had pulled from that of the tall young man and back to the altar. blackfeather's magicks have been splintered. i believe only a member of that bloodline will draw them together again.
a brief smile wreathed her muzzle, and then a quiet and somber expression passed over relmyna's features.
the gods will provide. as they always had; as the listener had always trusted them to do since she had come awake at cicero's side.