Larksong Grotto il en était fier, mais pourquoi vous riez ?

in this place there was no scent of the sea.
it had been terrible to leave it behind; she had wept over crossing the edge of the mountain and finding only the minutely familiar taiga, spreading wide before her.
but the obsidian had pushed herself onward. she did this for her family, for the legacy of her mother and sisters. she did this for herself, establishing motherhood upon the piece of oceanic heaven carved by warrior women before her.
with this in her heart, mireille moved on.
now she heard a man's voice, and her stomach lurched with dread and anticipation. she did not feel so out of control now, only that remembered twilight glittering at the base of her spine. but she scented also sickness, and rushed ahead near automatically. one man stood over another. mireille did not wait; she stepped closer. "he be reekin' of fever," she mumbled, moving to smell the breath upon the downed wolf's lips.