Hushed Willows you've made one too many mistakes to get out clean

Sometimes, when she drifted so close to the stars, it was easier to imagine that she was less alone than she felt. 

She didn't know what kind of karmic justice she was filling for all the weight that the universe had deemed appropriate to place upon her narrow shoulders.  She knows that there are others far less blessed than she — she thinks of Delight, his loss, then of Alarian and what precious little she knew of him.  But somehow it still felt as if nothing she did was ever good enough.  Despite her best efforts, the Morningsiders had failed to assimilate.  She'd seen precisely zero of them at Yule, which she feared had not turned out as well as Lily had hoped.  Her daughter was still missing; perhaps dead, perhaps somewhere thriving without her.  She didn't know which scenario was worse to bear. 

Nobody inside these walls or outside of them respected her or listened to her.  When she called for pack meetings, the majority of wolves refused to show.  When they tried to host events within their own borders, few could be bothered to move from their dens.  Every effort she took to breathe life into the pack that had been so unfairly thrust upon her felt like screaming into the void — a void that would never rouse or care to expend an ounce of energy back in her direction.

But despite all of this, she couldn't fault them for it.  Why should she?  Seabreeze, who had always carried the weight of others burdens with effortless grace, felt like she had nobody to do the same for her.  Despite all the love around her, she felt none of it herself.  Her wife's sweet ministrations touched her less as time went by and the pile of issues she had to deal with grew and grew.  Her friend Lily had found her true love.  Delight had been avoiding her, presumably consumed by the loss of Queenie and his daughter.

And the only common denominator was Seabreeze.  She couldn't help but think that just maybe, she was what had made them all so miserable.

Ibis.  Alarian.  Terance.  Mato.  Delight.  Sunny.  Olive.  Lily.  Khali.

Some had left and some still remained (in body if not all in spirit), but she could only feel close to any of them when she climbed through the tunnels of Elysium's vertical walls and brushed the stars.  She had never gotten why all of those people had loved the stars until now.  So she lingered and she wept until the breaking light of day began to dissolve the visions of love and lovers both lost and retained, until she could no longer feel them with her.

And when she was ready, she gathered herself to leave.  When she had brought herself up, the ground had not yet frozen.  Somewhere upon her descent when the tunnels broke to a ledge, she slipped, and her small malnourished frame cracked against the rock.

And though she breathed, she did not rouse.  Not for the void that would never rouse back.