Blackfeather Woods got a bag with a toothbrush and a comb in

A dark form appeared, drew close, pressed itself against her. Warm and soft, redolent of milk and babies—

Cass, she croaked, sniffling, shivering in the embrace. Mou. He's gone. I can't find him. . .his trail leads away. . . Her voice was empty, lost, like someone wandering aimlessly in the night having not slept for some time. She allowed herself to relax against her friend, still-bloated sides shallowly heaving with sobs barely suppressed.

Cassiopeia knew Mou. She knew how mysterious and flighty he could be. Where had he gone? Where is he? she echoed her thoughts, lips quivering. Why did he leave?

Why did he leave me?!