Bearclaw Valley no recall or intervention can work in this place

if you are not quiet, the wolves you wronged will find you.

ah, but she had been quiet; so deathly quiet, as all things are when left to rot in some dark corner. yet they came for her. a woman this time, a pale avenging demon. she blocked the light, and as they were both thrown into shadow the prophet understood that it was her own death which stared unflinchingly from the den entrance.

if the spirits stirred, almalexia could not hear it from the muffled muted dark of this imposed silence.

words poured from her. remembered words; the last she had ever heard uttered by her beloved wispmother.

iksā va moriot lēda nyke mephala, she uttered it as a prayer, knowing not what it meant. what almalexia sought now was connection in her final moments: to the woman who had been mother before all else, as almalexia had thought she herself would be.

va moriot kesīr naejot tourment nyke syt ñuha past. a growling tone to her words. rage, for the lives she would not bring into this world, and for the future already in the process of becoming lost to her.