Wheeling Gull Isle nothing, nothing

Sitting would not be a problem for Maegi. She came, finally, having passed the celebratory feast and eschewed it. She was too sad to be hungry, even though the sadness was a kind of hunger, gnawing at her belly, her bones. Her eyelids were slitted, steps somewhat serpentine but still deliberate. She passed through the trees, wraithlike, and burst into open ground with moonbeams bouncing off her pelt.

Hello, she managed, and eased down, giving her leader a respectful nod before glancing at Natshana. She wondered if Mou would come. She suddenly felt quite alone, and it sent a ripple of terror through her, a black hole that threatened to swallow her whole.

Instead, Maegi looked at her forepaws, stretched before her on the ground. Yes, an anchor, a weight against the poppies pulling her mind and body elsewhere. She rooted herself, and then found herself yawning, jaws stretched wide, eyes watering.

It was a long night. She wondered what Huā had in store for them.