Wild Berry Meadow o, how my flesh summers

If the frolicsome silver read and knew the chill in the Blackfeather’s eyes, she didn’t let on. For all the world, the herbalist was as blithely unaware of the bleakness of Magei’s countenance just as she was of who, exactly, she referred to. But the description had matched that of her midwife, and she’d seen no harm in telling this she-wolf what she knew.

With the ravaged lurker taking her leave, so did Aure see fit to begin a hazy, content traipse back to the Falls and to her children. She strode for the spires, unfettered by doubts; and soon hastened in her fervidy to see them again, and tell them of what she’d discovered here.

All the while, she didn’t take note of blue wings, fluttering high high high above her scarred crown; or of the whispers which been woven moments before.