Redhawk Caldera u r b a n i

She saw it, too. The movement.

And her own fur rose against her volition, cresting along her spine, her tail bristling out wide and thick.

Maybe it's my mother, she whispered, though to herself, not intending on Ani to hear. Her voice grew louder, then. I was a princess, then, married to a prince. But things don't always work out.

The strange shifting in the fog remained, and her  gaze was trained upon it.

She blinked, and it vanished.

Mama.

I think—maybe when others die, they don't go away forever, forever, she remarked, and tears pricked at the corners of her eyes.