Hushed Willows coral-cold.

he barely felt atwood's teeth on his scruff, nor heard his cry, occupied as he was with getting to the bottom of this. cam's eyes were filled with tears and fire as he glares at the other boy while hunkered next to lily's cooling form. how d'you know? he spat, teeth bared. you don't! you don't know!

but why wasn't she waking up? all it took to wake cam up was a soft word in his ear, a gentle nudge. he'd pushed and poked and prodded and still! she remained so still!

muuummm-mmmyyyy! he whined shrilly, pressing his nose into her ear. nothing.

WAKE UP! he shouted, barrelling into the curve of her belly. nothing.

MUMMY WAKE UP— he begged, nipping at her ankles. nothing.

with a despondent, desolate sob, cam moved away from her, then shoved past atwood to run into the trees, looking for his father, for olive or seebee, for his siblings. surely atwood must be lying or mistaken; surely this couldn't be. he'd get to the bottom of this.

but why didn't she wake up?!