Broken Antler Fen We don't need to be related to relate.

Wraen did not take Towhee to a cave - there weren't many here in Brecheliant and those that were, usually ended up in an underground lake, were dark, murky and quite unwelcome. It was not a place for a spirit of an unborn child or a baby, or toddler that had passed away too soon to dwell in. No.

"I like to think that Heaven is not a far-off place," she told her friend, while they walked towards a more remote area of the fen. The voices of other wolves in the distance vanished and soon it was just them and the ambient music of the evening in the forest. "And that we can keep the spirits of the loved-ones close. For their realm is cold and they thrive on the warmth of our love for them, she continued, spinning the tale. It did not matter, whether it was true or there was any scientific proof for her theory. It made her feel good, made her world a little more bearable place to live in. 

She went silent after that, until they came to the edge of a bowl-shaped clearing, where, surrounded by soft grass, fragnant flowers an old wild apple tree stood in the middle. While it was early in the season, its branches were full with flowers yet to bloom. If one listened carefully, they would notice the unmistakeable hum of bees in work and the first butterflies of the season fluttered from one bloom to the other. There was a small creek on one end and a pool of clear water on the other. 

"When I discovered this corner of the fen, I thought that it was a bit like a Paradise in miniature," she shared, sitting down and waiting for Towhee to do the same. "And why not it be a place for children lost to play in. Here its warm and plenty of sunshine. Here they are safe and eternally happy, until they are ready to move on," she sighed.