Blackfeather Woods a distant ship smoke on the horizon

Mmm, Maegi murmured as her mate came to her, pressing himself close to her. She felt the beating of her heart and imagined it syncopated with his; always in time, arrhythmic as they sometimes were. Lockstep, for seasons, and would be until one of them perished—

The thought of death threatened to send her spiraling downward. She felt the impulse tug at her and chased it away, focusing only on his presence. How he felt. How he smelled. 

He was real. They were real. And if they were unreal, then reality could go to hell.

I haven't felt this peaceful since. . . Maegi trailed off, not needing to say it. Chased away the sorrow once more, and forbade herself from taking more poppies. Intoxication was a razor's edge—one slip the wrong way and the abyss lie yawning beneath you. It was all too easy.

Love you, she whispered, then smiled. Do you remember the poison tree here?