Fairspell Meadow of little wings of white-flamed butterflies in my brain

Sobek came, and she nuzzled close to him, smiling. Hey, tresy, she whispered, breath warming the space between them. She worried about him in the aftermath of Anansi's death. Sakhmet had run, but he'd stayed. Observed the scene. Had seemed to take it hard. She worried.

How are you holding up? Maegi asked, knowing the answer probably wouldn't be the most chipper. She was prepared to help him through anything, talk him through anything. . .even if she didn't have the words. She'd just be a silent presence, if that was enough for him.

And goddamn it, if he wanted words, then he would have words. If he wanted the moon, he'd have the moon, because Maegi with her stunted paw would leap to the stars and pull the entire thing down for her children. They were all she had left, really.