Wheeling Gull Isle the child is grown; the dream is gone

set last night, December 19

"Once upon a time, there were three pups—two little boys, one as black as night and the other gray and white, and a little girl, fur like the moon. Their names were Ramsay, Euron and Maegi."

"That's you, Mama!"

"That's right, Miseria—and the boys are my brothers. . .your uncles. Anyway, one day, I—ah, Maegi was playing around with something in the Glen—that's where we grew up, a little hollow with some dens—when Euron brought her a feather. . ."

If wolves could sweat, she'd be drenched. She awoke with a start, alongside the sleeping form of her husband, sides heaving, heart pounding. Shaking herself, she rose slowly and silently and left the small depression in the earth they called their own.

Into the cool night air she went, traveling down the slope, through the trees, a specter breaking onto the beach, bathed in moonlight.

A sob escaped her, chest burning. Miseria's childish voice still reverberated through her mind and it would not leave. She smelled her son, her daughter; she felt the softness of the feather and how light it had been to carry. Lighter than air. . .

Overcome, Maegi crumpled into a heap on the sand, tears darkening the ivory fur upon her cheeks, her nose, falling crystalline and sinking into the earth. It was Seelie's domain, still, always, but her mind was trapped within Onyx Hollow. Her lungs had healed, the ashes were gone, and still—still!—she found a whiff of smoke everywhere she went.

Her failure. It had followed her even here.