Lion Head Mesa she is lonely most of the time

this got long, as usual never any need to match <3

"Jakoul, I—"

Her ears cupped forward, eager to once more hear the voice of Maegi. Always comfort, always warmth, always home.

"I think I'm dying.

A plummeting sensation in her gut, a sinking stone. The words did not seem true — or perhaps she simply refused to hear them as truth. Such an impossible thought. Her eyes watered, but she ignored them in favor of staring through the droplets at the pale furs of Maegi.

No.

No. No. No. No. No.

NO. NO. NO.

Fear and sadness replaced by a sudden swell of anger. Not at Maegi, never at Maegi — but what thing had wrought the woman such a thought? There was an ugly desire in Jakoul. If it was another who did this, she would have their throat. If it was an illness, she would find a way to root it out. Gut out the rot and restore the woman. There was a doctor here and Jakoul could go collect more, she could learn and she could heal and she could —

Could, could, could.

Her mind became an ugly roar of compulsive thoughts and ill tidings. She would point a finger at everybody and every thing until she found a source to direct this ugliness upon. The Morta had always been there to defend, to protect, to be the eyes and arms of those entrusted to them.

How had they let this happen to Maegi?

If only they had stayed, tried a bit harder and been a bit better. If they had not been so waifish and given into so many fleeting desires in their times here and other places. She found a twisting great comfort in thinking that this was a thing she had done, a thing that she might have time or strength to heal.

She could not let such a thing befall Maegi.

Why? Rasped out in a harsh breath, eyes shined and now stung wildly.

Who or what had compelled such a thought?