Sun Mote Copse Sometimes the weight of the world is too much

@Chanel 

Two weeks had passed since the Hideaway strath had opened it's doors once again and everyone, who had been trapped inside, had been free to leave. Except for those, who did not return. While Wraen felt sympathy for Towhee, who had lost almost all of her pack, her heart was heavy for the loss of Elfie. It was difficult not to feel guilt over instigating the very idea of sending him there. If she had delayed it for whatever reason, maybe he would be still here. Sour and easy to annoy, but alive and well. Now - though she refused to accept it - it was very likely that the boy had not survived. There was no other way to explain his complete disappearance. Just because there was not a body to prove her darkest suspicions, did not mean that he was alive. 

A tiny glimmer of hope was the only thing that kept the Sovereign going. She had not yet faced Eljay for the fear of rightful anger and resentment towards her and, while she focus on all the other duties that needed to be fulfilled, she managed to avoid the despair that was lurking in the shadows. But on the evenings or the moments, when she was on her own (and beyond courtesy and job, she kept mostly to herself nowadays), she thought about Wildfire's son, who had been so full of life and promise and who had been reaped so cruelly from it. Too soon, but, when does death come right on time? 

Wraen knew many gods by name and deeds, but was not particularly religious. She had claimed to have a firm belief in herself only. Yet at the moment it was not enough. The dark, stary sky above her, the moon looking down at her did not give either answers or support, but then she thought that with them up there... they had to see everything that was going on. Therefore she closed her eyes and sent a prayer to them. To watch over Elfie, wherever he was, and to guide him home safe and well.