Blackfeather Woods a distant ship smoke on the horizon

Home. Not here. Not the island. Home. Once consumed by shadows, now by smoke. She felt it sting her eyes, burn her throat anew. Her bliss quickly sank into despair, and she buried her her face in his pelt—

Growing thicker, for winter was coming. He would not feel the wetness of tears that came so suddenly.

Me too, Maegi choked out, and tried desperately to summon the island again. She didn't want to think about the hollow. Not now. Not ever, really. But especially not now.

We were happy on the island, she whispered. Well, mostly. But compared to the horrors they'd endured elsewhere, Undersea seemed a bona fide paradise. She blinked away the moisture, pulled back, looked at him seriously. We should. . .go back.