Hushed Willows I'm ready to leave it, I'll go when I feel it

Mae cast a grateful look at her father when he offered the creek's help. This was all more for her guilt than anything else, there was no denying it. Reverie had never asked anything of her — and she hated that. She wasn't her mother.

Sometimes Mae wished she was, and she hated that too.

She was keenly aware of how uncomfortable Akavir seemed; it occurred to her that maybe they should take their leave quickly. But then she looked at the puppies again, and thought of Boone again. Dead, just like that. What if something happened to Reverie too? Mae knew that the birth had been difficult, and even now the woman seemed tired. What if this was the last time she saw her?

Yeah... Mae trailed off, then abruptly began again: Look, I'm sorry about all the shit I said. And I'm sorry about what happened to Boone. She took a step forward, then another, and then she was reaching out for a desperate clinging embrace. I'm sorry.

It only lasted a moment. She pulled away just as quickly, mumbling before Reverie could respond, We should get going. I'll catch you later.