The Bracken Woods She

What is it that you want?! her inner voice screamed in echo.

I want to rule. I want the right to choose a mate and build a family, Masquerade said, knowing Mulherin would at least understand what a one-eighty that was for her. That’s—it’s a compulsion that came over me, when I could smell that New Snow…

She shook her head, anger surging at the recollection. Masque tried to tamp it down, focusing on explaining herself as best as she could. It was absolutely a struggle, though talking through it might help her make sense of it.

It’s like I suddenly split into two. Masque didn’t know terms like “ego” or “id” but it felt like she was onto something. Me, the Caru who’s always existed, and then… her, with the most feral of feminine wiles. But she’s also me.

Her teeth clenched. As cerebral as she was—part of the problem, certainly—she didn’t have the language to make sense of it. She glanced at Mulherin’s face, expecting to see abject confusion. Nevertheless, she persisted.

I think she must’ve always been there, deep down. Maybe she was sleeping. But now she’s most definitely awake.