Wapun Meadow when i was a younger man, looking for a pot of gold

indra knew a thing or two about leaving — both withstanding, and going. she shared a sympathetic smile, relieved on aurewen’s behalf that at least she had not endured her exodus in solitude.

it was a sorry tale, but it sounded as if their fleeing chapter had netted them some safety. as much as she resented stigmata, she knew the imperial basilisk to be a frightful protector: aurewen and her kith would be safe in diaspora.

that sounds very hard, indra commented, dryly glancing towards diaspora’s borders. but you and your family are in capable hands now. stigmata would let nothing happen to you. how many little doves did you whelp? indra’s gaze grew sentimental — she loved puppies, and felt she might have missed something this year, having no whelps to tend to (even if they were not her own). she did not wish her own this season, still ashamed of her handling of merrick, but a longing crept into her voice all the same.