Blackfeather Woods the ones that we love.

The yawn came after a while, a wonderful sound, a wonderful sight. Maegi watched Parvati drift away, eyes fixed, cold and steely, on the half-slumbering woman. She moved to lay behind the milk-giver, wrapping her limbs around the woman in an awkward, grotesque embrace. Almost like how Mou—

No. She would not think of him, not here, not now. He had left her. He had forsaken his place in the woods.

Instead, Maegi rested her chin on Parvati's shoulder and stared at her suckling, sleeping children, lips gentle and barely parted. Her whispers grew into a soft chanting, grew into something no more than gibberish to a prayer with substance, with meaning.

Peryite, ñuha āeksio, ñuha Jaes, she intoned, breath stirring the soft brown fur. Dohaeragon ñuha riñar naejot mazverdagon rōva se kostōba. Dohaeragon ñuha riñar naejot gūrēñagon naejot glaesagon mijegon bisa ābra. Mērī pār kostagon pōnta sagon dāez.

Please, Maegi hissed, sounding almost pained in her desperation.