Rising Sun Valley maunon

"i will," but glaukos was already turning away, moving with such a speed that he did not seem a wolf at all between the flashes of lightning, but a stormcloud of his own etching across the valley.
when the next clap of thunder cleaved her hearing, heda felt the hotness of grief stark against the cold rain upon her face. hope.
she could not change what she had done, but this, this — she had done something. 
had god been in this? heda wondered, slipping once on slick grass before she found a thin path for home. what she had done had been a betrayal, not only of druid but of rivenwood, of the allies her sister had found, of perhaps even the children themselves if she was wrong about glaukos. but it was because she believed fervently that she was not wrong that she felt right in this.
"i will," heda said once more to a lightless sky.