Hushed Willows Every day I've got a smile where my frown goes

Reverie braced herself, expecting the worst; expecting to be cursed at, yelled at. But none of that happened. She watched as Mae stared at her own paws — and then the girl began to cry, and Reverie did not know what to do. Mae was not her daughter; she wasn't hers to hold or to reassure, but those who should have were not here to do it.

She braced herself a second time and reached out, this time wrapping one arm around sharp bony shoulders and pulling Mae into a hug. Maybe she would push her away. Maybe she would be angry again. But it didn't matter. Reverie loved this girl as if she'd been born of her own womb, and maybe that was foolish of her, but how could she not? She pressed her muzzle to the dark forehead, and hoped that Mae would not push her away this time.