Blackfeather Woods my life and all seemed turned to clay

she felt interest and trepidation stirring among her children, but relmyna was beyond coddling them. not for this. her lips moved in a silent chant
blood
and then they stopped, her gaze gathering a cold somberness that reflected in her regard of both astara and averna. in their veins ran cicero's lineage, and the last element for her spellcasting. slowly she extended a paw, nicked a small cut in its pad with her teeth, and placed it upon the wolfskull. gaze fell to her daughters then: would they understand, or must relmyna violate the role of mother, and take from her brood what was necessary?
sithis whispered.