Fairspell Meadow there is no pain; you are receding

Where had it been? Where exactly upon this cold, open tract of land had her son perished?

She wondered if she'd find the trees that had crushed Cassiopeia, had crushed Anansi. His tail. . .disintegrated, somewhere here. With Sobek's bones. Sakhmet—lost on the wind. 

Nirgali and Ninazu, gone to the soil. Never meant to live.

And now, ashes.

Maegi watched Titmouse wander off but stayed put, almost as if she were stuck in place. Her stomach was tight as a clenched fist, her teeth chattering—not from cold but from. . .

Not nerves. She'd done this homecoming enough times for it to be nerves. Barely suppressed hysteria? Funny thing about grief. It felt almost like a laugh reined back. Something bubbling near the surface. Sometimes she laughed and then cried; cried then laughed.

Because all she had left to do, when the tears were spent, was to laugh at fate's cruel hand in her life. 

Let's go, Maegi called out to her mate, lest she cackle once more. There was time enough for hysteria. The woods would permit it.