Redhawk Caldera Vessel

insomnia had taken her from the den, but when teya returned, it was to hear the little sleep-cries of a fitful ponyboy.
the woman who had come for her now came for her son, and teya felt the fire of the tiger-stripes though she could not see them. her thin frame thrust into the den, hovered over her son, but 
gold/smoke/snarling/ponyboy heaving under her arms; voices/shouting/something pressing on the bleak spiderweb which had never left teya since niamh's entry into her mind, darkening, spreading.
when she blinked, killdeer was there.
when she breathed, bronco too.
teya retreated into the farthest shadows of the den and found she could not breathe, and equally strong was her desire that her children would heal to see the loving shade of their father. but for the raven, it was the third ghost, and perhaps that moment she went completely, stunningly mad.
take me with you, her eyes pleaded as they turned toward him, sunken circlets of exhaustion and a pain that would not release its bite. and she knew how selfish it was! she knew she — bronco, don't leave me here again, all in a mind for her jaw could not speak. even as love spread through her to quell the shock and the dread, even as she climbed from the den to join bronco and bronte and ponyboy and killdeer, her gaze asked if it was possible.