Noctisardor Bypass talking to the moon

Heda knew, which meant she wouldn’t have to explain. Although this brought some measure of relief, the question Heda posed made her heart feel as though it had stopped in her chest. She found it hard to catch her breath and wondered if the she-wolf’s bite was poisoning her already.

She clutched at her sister’s paw, not sure what to say or if she could speak at all. When Etienne suddenly materialized from the darkness, she gasped his name. Druid looked up at him helplessly from the water, her usually cool head swarming with a dozen nightmare scenarios.

I don’t think so, she said shakily, more tears springing to her eyes and blurring her vision. I think—I think it takes time but I don’t want to take any risks with our babies. She gripped Heda’s paw so hard now it must hurt. Voice hitching, Druid continued, And I don’t want to risk you either, which means nobody can touch it.

She was beyond help, she knew. The only thing any of them could do was mitigate the risks. And though before tonight Druid would’ve said she would never leave Rivenwood for anything, she realized the best thing she could do for those she loved was leave them.

There was more than one way to do that. Druid’s wet gaze climbed to Etienne’s face again. She wondered if he knew of any poisons that could euthanize her without further suffering. She choked on a sob before she could even voice the thought. She couldn’t ask that of him. Besides, she wasn’t ready to die. There must be another way to keep her family safe.

Do you… Druid started, then stopped to get her shuddering breath under control. Do you know that huge forest east of here? I’ll go there. And… Well, what could she do except wait? I’ll… quarantine. And if I don’t get sick, I’ll… I’ll come home.

How long would it take for the danger to pass? Druid wasn’t sure. Perhaps Etienne might know. She wanted to look at him, though her tearful gaze remained fixed on Heda’s face now. She thought of their children and the tears fell faster. She knew the pale Den Mother would look after them, with the others’ help.

But would she ever get to see them again? It wasn’t even safe to say goodbye. The pain of this revelation hurt Druid far worse than the wound in her thigh. She made a choking sound as she tried to stifle another sob. She’d been dreaming of the day when she could leave them. Now that it was here, with rabies—she remembered the term abruptly—forcing her hand, Druid realized just how fucking much she loved her children.