Cricket Creek Bog Unless I say so, ain't your Barbie, no

YASSSSS

Niamh had been napping when the cry came from beyond their marked borders. Distant and foreign to her ears, but recognizable nonetheless, and the message it carried rallied her from her slumber with such  suddenness that Niamh nearly jumped out of her own skin. Her hackles prickled and stiffened like quills as an instinctive reaction to the voice but recent memory served her better- and with a joyous cry, she abandoned the small spot where she'd been sprawling, snoring, and bolted toward the bog. Like a crazed creature she yowled out a quick reply- not bothering to pause long enough to match the finesse of Erzulie's refined timbre- to assure the Rusalkan that she was on her way. 

It didn't take her long to realize she should have paced herself better, but she did not want to waste a moment lest her former foe change her mind and wander off with her daughter in tow. Potentially, this all could have been a set up- and it was possible that Raleska had told Erzulie that Niamh was missing a child, allowing Erzulie to formulate the perfect plot to lure her in and finish her off, if she'd been that set on revenge...But Niamh couldn't allow her mild paranoia to stand between her and getting her daughter back. 

Not a thought was given to how Rasalas' mother might have felt, had she known that another wolf had more or less abducted her son. But that was simply how Niamh operated- without a thought given to how others might have felt. And here she was, wearing those same shoes, but so willfully ignorant of the blistering they caused her heels. 

She was out of breath by the time she spotted them in the bog but nonetheless put on another burst of speed to close the gap and was heaving with exhaustion, whining piteously with every exhale as she sped toward her daughter. Despite being muddy- and the effects that inevitably had on her immaculate spirit- she looked healthy and well. She swept toward her daughter, heedless of her proximity to the wolf who at another point in time might have used that closeness to tear her pelt to shreds. She was oblivious, as well, how Erzulie might've perceived her, sprinting with such furious need to get closer to them- but any mother should have recognized, from a distance, that her features bore no hostility, only relief. She felt dizzy from the exertion it had taken her to sprint the distance from the Copse to the bog, but the energy she felt in reuniting with her child set her senses aflame as she reached out to embrace her daughter once more.