Wheeling Gull Isle haiplana

this was how it should be.
oh, malakai! his baby voice lifted in hymn echoed through her mind just as he bore down upon her with horrible vengeance.
skaigona did not fight; instinctively, weakly, she raised an arm to ward off his teeth. 
but it was not a true obstacle. malakai lifted her as if she weighed nothing, fangs tearing through her thinned fur.
cold air struck her face.
hard earth struck her body.
skaigona cried out then, bone bending until it broke; once inside her and once in her wrist. she lay in a sodden heap of white below the greenhills, sobbing, but there was no hatred in her for malakai, not even anger.
i deserve this, the holy voice within her head insisted, and she nodded at nothing.
tears scorched her eyes as she concentrated on her breath, ears lifted to monitor in panic for her son.
even then her arms ached to hold him, her heart to sing its love.