Blackfeather Woods never seem to find the time

Mou wasn't chasing him out. He was--he was calling him by name. Redsang. It sounded enough like Redhawk to her to give her pause, and she gaped at him for a long moment, eyes darting wildly between the two of them. Then--

Who is this, Mou? Maegi asked, the hysteria in her voice frosting over from the fire it was before. How do you know him? Who is this? Then the Melonii rounded on the bleeding stranger, padding up close enough to thrust her nose in his face. You need to get out, she hissed, flecks of blood-tinged drool spattering against his cheeks. Get. Out.

Anger. Shock. Guilt. Gods, the guilt. She turned, slowly, gaze fixed on Mou's wounds--the wounds she had given him--and she stared for a long moment, her expression lifeless. Get him out, she commanded. He's trespassing. Get him out, or I'll tell the Dark Master that you helped him.

She spun on her heel and padded away, shoulders stiff.

Nothing would bring her woods to ruin. Even if she had to destroy all the rest of her heart in the process.