Stone Circle Helping Hands

She is not present for her family, she is not present for the pack; she is scarcely present when she hears Ulfhild’s call and yet her feet bring her to the woman’s side. She looks between her systirs with a note of guilt. They are strong in the face of their grief, even when she can smell it so thick upon them both.

“Ulfhild,” her lips greet quietly, then to Móðir, “Tak.” She lowers into a sit. Everything feels somehow labored.

“I’m… so sorry,” she whispers between them.