Firefly Ravine oh, mother: tell me more. . .

How strange and incredible life could be. Moorhen could hardly believe that she'd been reunited first with Coelacanth, and then with Julep. Surely, there would be more chance twists of fate in her life. She was yet young, and the world was so wide and open. All things lost can be found again, she thought to herself as she ventured inland once more.

It was cool and damp in the ravine, which suited her just fine after the sweltering heat of the day. The burly shewolf picked her way through the quiet rush of the current, now and then leaning down to lap at the stone-flavored waters. She thought of Doe and, for the first time, did not feel anxious or afraid at the memory of the Siren of Tara, as Coelacanth had once called her. The woman was dead, now, and Moorhen felt, finally, that she was out of reach of the red bitch's teeth. Thinking about her now was like thinking about the ocean: it was just another part of her legacy. Another pillar which she had climbed as a girl, but now towered over in her own glory.

She was wholly herself, and it was good.

The raven's footsteps slowed when she heard soft cries up ahead, but she forged on until she stood quietly before the small, weeping child. "Are you all alone?" the woman asked, lowering herself to her belly in the shallow waters of the river's edge.