Broken Antler Fen I want to watch wisteria grow right over my bare feet

Knowing how badly she had felt for her own lost children, Ibis presumed (wrongly) that Maia's depleted energy and red, wet face were products of a difficult birth. When the new mother began to retreat Ibis watched her go, her heart aching with sympathy, wishing she could do something to ease that pain for  her.

Then Eljay arrived. He was still damp from his wash, and Ibis found the scent of him peculiar in passing; he moved to console his wife with sombre words and while they were mostly private within the den space, Ibis could piece together some.

It felt wrong for her to be here - just like when Tambourine had passed and she had stumbled upon his body - Ibis was not meant to be a part of their grief no matter how familiar it was. So she quietly moved, beginning to leave — only to see her husband.

He had brought a gift  The sombre look on his face drew Ibis' eye, but he moved beyond her to the den mouth where he placed the hare, speaking carefully to the new parents. He shared a kindness with them that Ibis somehow lacked; but she was confused by it too.

Akavir's scent had not been here when Ibis had arrived. This was, therefore, his first visit to their shared den. How could he know of their loss? Unless Eljay had told him; or perhaps they had mourned together, commiserated as they buried the little girl.

She looked at Akavir anew; studying his dark coat for signs of mud and dirt, which she did not find. It was all so peculiar.

It will be alright, Ibis attempted to sooth things, wanting only to help Maia and ease her pain. Your two girls will not miss her as they grow. After all, Lilitu and Arielle did not miss their litter mates, Taku and Borras; they did not know of them.

Thinking this would be some comfort, Ibis did not recognize how cold the words may come across.