Blackfeather Woods a distant ship smoke on the horizon

There were still remnants of Onyx Hollow pressed upon her skin. It was as if Maegi had bathed in the essence of their old home before it could burn—perhaps as it sat burning; Titmouse thought he could smell the sweetness of night blooming jasmine mixed with the choke of char. He breathed her in, experiencing the expanse of his lungs, hearing the fire crackling as the diaphragm expanded, a pop of a rib here, a spark of ember there.

Love you, Maegi drawled to him. The commentary that precluded her love was lost to the fire. He was attentive now and turned one black-marked ear to gather her voice.

Poison.. tree..? His tongue felt heavy. He could not be sure if he was thinking the words or speaking them; but he nods a moment later, the memory fuzzy but present. He could recall many things about this forest and none of it was pleasant, in retrospect.