Otter Creek It always runs back but it's never quite the same

Even further into the abyss, as she realized she could be of no help. She didn't even bother to shake her head, just continued to stare at the woman with hollow eyes. I have not. I'm sorry, Maegi responded, not without empathy—perhaps with too much. Not necessarily perceivable, but apparent in her drawn face, the dead finality of each word.

Her nostrils flared and caught the scent of Diaspora upon the woman's pelt. You're from Mahler's pack, she remarked, frowning. Diaspora is missing young ones, too? It seems that the earth has put a curse upon us all. No one had been spared. It wasn't just her. They all suffered.

What do the children look like? the Nona asked, hoping to keep the description in mind the next time she found a wayward pup, strayed too far into the meadow.