Broken Antler Fen Good wives always know.

Jasmine had been the one to cry, for she had been met with the rudest awakening. Instead of the familiar touch of darkness that had always swaddled her, the night blinked away to a brightness she'd never known.

A brightness Jasmine decidedly hated.

Blinking did no good, and neither did closing her eyes. And when she found these things futile, she'd done the next best things she'd known to do: she'd screamed. More in frustration than anything else, a boiling upset that the world would decidedly change things without asking her first.

Mama's touch offered a small relief and might've done more if she'd not whisked her attention away.

Jasmine waited in a blithering quiet in case mama returned. But when the place where she'd touched grew cold, the little girl shuffled around to face her and screamed again, letting her angry wail fill the darkness of the den that should have still been hers.