Blackfeather Woods [m] Gonna raise some sand in the dead o' night

He summoned her by his own will.

It wasn't alone that he took God into his mouth on that long, wistful night.

It was on this one The Becoming expected it from her.

Do not bow, he told her. 

Then why did she feel so terribly weak right now? It had been careless that she did so before, packed with little truth and little emotion apart from being before him. So, why now, she wondered, did she feel differently. Legend was no longer feeling those words be true in her stomach, and should they be in there, they were churning. They were nauseating.

Her legs did not give in, but her head did, low with her ears pinned back on her skull.  She saw the eyes of trust, thinking daintily over his statement. Oh, she would do anything for Seth when he had served her so useful. A crooked, and not in physicality, smile rested on her lips. That feeling of being game started to infest her mind, and she looked up to it with fluttering eyes and patience. With comfort to his warm hues of sun.

"Yes."