Fairspell Meadow swarm the belly, swelling to a blaze

scarab is silent as maegi speaks of a man she met from rusalka, at war with himself. according to this man, rusalka had made it out of the coast and had relocated but ...he'd been looking for large game. not the missing golden prince. surely, if the sun of his life was still alive she'd be looking for him ...right? unless, he considers, she thinks he's dead too. the internal war rages on. that small flare of hope that he hasn't dared allowed himself wrestling with the larger shadow of rationality. he swallows thickly, his ears fluttering back to rest at half mast atop his skull.

what if they're not? what if we go there and they're dead?

but what if they were alive? what about maegi? she's just lost her other son and there was still the matter of the life debt scarab owes her. favors aren't something that scarab takes lightly; and there is a small but growing feeling of reluctance to part from her. scarab doesn't like being in such a conflicting state where his silence feels like it's stretching on forever and indecision weighs his heart like a stone. if ...if we go there and they are still alive — scarab pauses, blinking a few times, still not daring to allow himself hope. can i still stay with you and blackfeather? he asks softly. a strange request, likely, but blackfeather and maegi have taken him in when he was on the cusp of life and death and the only way he knows how to repay that kindness is by giving them his unyielding loyalty.

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