Hushed Willows But I make no plans and none can be broken

She couldn't breathe.

There were others searching, Kukutux said, but he was gone. He would never come back. She knew, she knew because she had felt it. Her sobs turned shuddering, breath catching and threatening to fail, and the air was ice in her lungs and too large all around her, too empty. He was gone.

"Why're you cryin', sweetheart? You don't gotta cry."

Stop it, stop it, you're not here, you're NOT HERE! She shrieked into her paws and she was losing it, losing herself and she couldn't feel her face she couldn't breathe she couldn't live without him not without him not him

Foxglove cried out then, disturbed from her sleep not by the sound but the trembling movement of her sobbing mother. Reverie quieted. She drew ragged, uneven breaths, fighting to steady each one. She reached for her daughter, tucked her close in a bid to soothe the girl. Her frantic eyes found Kukutux, still brimming with tears.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I - What could she say? That her grip on reality was tenuous at best? That Boone had been the one who kept her grounded, who kept her stable? Kukutux would hear these words and see an unfit mother, she was sure. Maybe she would be right. But Reverie was all they had, now. Her gaze dropped from Kukutux to her daughters. I can't - I can't think about this right now. I can't do this, I'll - I won't be - fit to - to raise them. The words broke into another small sob.

He - he would search, if it was me. He would. But I can't, I can't leave them, She fussed over Foxglove, who would not be soothed. Her tears still fell endlessly. I have to - Reverie tried to dry her tears, stifle them before they fell across her precious daughters. I have to hold it together. For them. She was telling herself more than Kukutux. Convincing herself. She could not break now. She couldn't. They were so small, and they needed her.