Blackfeather Woods i'll wait to be forgiven, maybe i never will

down through snarling tangle and brush astara peeled, heedless of thorns that nicked harsh at her pelt. by now the tears she had just barely held at bay rolled hotly down her cheeks - where had they all been, when her mother had needed them?

when she had needed them?

the shadow did not look back at maegi, who like as not was perplexed by astara's distance. still troubled by seemingly insurmountable grief, the nightcub waded through the mire, just wanting to be alone.