Blackfeather Woods but now the rains weep o'er her hall

Why are you crying?

It was like the first note of a sweet symphony. Played by a clarinet, perhaps, or an English horn. Maegi turned to see Anansi standing there, gazing at her in query. She hiccuped as she tried to compose herself, quelling the sobs. If she were human, she'd be hastily wiping away trails of mascara, dark rivulets against her pale cheekbones.

Ñuha tresy, she whispered, rising to her paws and hobbling toward the pale boy, her voice suffused with some relief. Then she saw Sakhmet, and beckoned the girl close, too, with a trembling dip of her muzzle. Ñuha tala. If they'd allow, she would gather them both close, as tightly as she could given her small, slight frame.

Where is Sobek? Maegi breathed, still trembling. I haven't seen him in so long, and his scent has g-gone stale. . . Where has he gone? Do you know? If anyone were to have any idea of the youngster's whereabouts, it would be his siblings. But perhaps they weren't as close as she and her brothers had been. . .