Fairspell Meadow Free the ghost that haunts you.

Sakhmet was there, then, burrowing herself close; she pulled her daughter to her with a fervency that left her breathless, pressing the dark girl against her breast as if the child would slip away at any moment. Sakhmet, Sakhmet, she whispered mournfully, in a broken, ragged voice. She was all Maegi had left. Everyone else—

No. Mou had come, too. He lingered for a moment on the edge of the scene, and then drew near, his warmth touching her even in the coldest of moments. Still clutching Sakhmet, she buried her face in his ruff and sobbed. His scent cloaked the scent of death and for that, she was grateful. For him, she was grateful.

Please stay, Maegi moaned, and did she mean in this moment, or for the rest of their lives? Both, surely—she needed him now more than ever, and she needed him forever. Please stay, and her voice trailed off to the barest murmur, caught in her throat, lost in his fur.

Venamis was not noticed by the grieving mother, but if he had been, she would have beckoned him closer, too. More than anything, she did not want to be alone in this moment. . .and Venamis was family, too.

She craved the touch of anyone and everyone, if only to forget the sensation of her son's dead flesh against her muzzle.