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

The quiet admission wasn’t something Akavir relished in—his thoughts drifting back to times when Jakoul and Reverie had hours of stolen time together in the den—Reverie had been a part of Mae’s life before Mae had even realized it.

Wisely—he withheld the emotion across his face as he considered the gilded woman they had now just fled. For, in many aspects, she truly would have been the only mother figure Mae would have had within her life. Ash Paw and Silvertongue might have provided her milk for her final days of requiring such nourishment—but such a supplement did little to the nourishment that Reverie had likely given Mae’s heart these final few months.

And so he gave a small nod—acknowledgement, perhaps. Understanding. And while the flashing image of the Hearthwood leader, scorning him about her hatred for him came to mind, he kept this at bay when he responded: “In many ways, Mae, she is. Blood doesn’t always denote our family.”

And there he would let that thought linger, allowing the silence to yawn between them as they began to travel home.