Whitefish River quoth the raven:

What had happened?

When she had left the woods a moon ago, all was right. . .to an extent. Sure, she had began to feel a simmering distrust for Mou and his past, and visions of a tortuous future had plagued her dreams--but things had been normal. Normal as they could be, anyway.

But now she wandered, alone, her left ear in tatters and a distinct look of gauntness to her already-angular face. She was haunted, a wraith, doomed to walk. And walk. And walk.

She supposed she was on her way back home, but part of her was unsure. Was it really home? Was anywhere home, without the ones she loved so dear? One by one, they'd slipped away, whether through death or through relocation. And there wasn't a single thing she could do to bring any of them back to her. She was utterly powerless and utterly alone.

Maegi ought to count her blessings. She would become Listener, after Relmyna had passed. High Priest of Blackfeather Woods. The position she'd always wanted--and, yet, it felt empty without her brothers by her side. Without Mou. What good was power without loved ones to share it with? She had always imagined Potema's three spurned children ruling the forest that had once reviled them. It would never be that way.

She took a turn, following a bend in the river. Hobbled down to the bank for a drink. She had began to lap at the crisp water when a grating caw made her jump nearly out of her skin.

A raven, scrawny and vile. Its feathers were bedraggled, caked in old mud; its eyes were milk-white, bloodshot without pupils, and they seemed to pierce through to her very core. It smelled. . .well, dead. Nose wrinkling, but still intrigued, Maegi lifted her head and stared at the bird, head cocked slightly.

It's time to go, child.

Peryite's voice floated from the raven's beak, and her eyes widened in surprise, lips parted slightly. This wasn't the form Peryite usually took in her dreams. Was it real? Was it a dream? She stepped forward to press her muzzle against the raven--holding her breath--but it fluttered away, looking balefully upon her.

Touch me and you will die. It's time to go, Peryite repeated insistently, flapping the velvet-black wings.

Where? Maegi asked, but the bird was already flying away, veering eastward from her course.

She thought of disobeying--every instinct screamed at her to do so. But her paws, without volition, began to follow. Step by hobbling step until she lurched into that awkward lope of hers, mismatched gaze trained on the raven. She ran with endurance she didn't know she had, her long and slender legs carrying her across the landscape. Mile after mile after mile. . .

-----

She didn't know how far she had gone, nor how many days had passed; even the rising and setting of the sun was a blur, in her mind. The raven slowed, eventually, and Maegi with it, the pair approaching a tangled dark forest nestled in the shadow of monstrous mountains. Peryite landed on one of the outer branches. She blinked--

--and the raven was gone.

Her legs gave out.

There Maegi Melonii lay, a crumpled, skeletal heap of snow-white pelt and spidery limbs, eyes barely slitted open. She thought she would die. She thought she was dead, and wondered if she would see her lost loved ones again.

The thought comforted her, and when she looked up to see an indigo gaze surveying her critically, she thought it was Miraak, here to escort her into the Void. But the voice that floated from the dark maw was female, old and gravelly, and she found herself cast into confused turmoil once more.

By gods, girl, what demon birthed you?