Starglow Basin bruja,

Her gasp is guttural, buried in a dry leather throat that scrapes for air.

The sound carries. A cave. There are voices. Home, she thinks.

Eyes open to darkness; darkness, and pale lavender. Darkness, and a single yellow sun that festers with too much familiarity.

Skittering; mumbling, tender paws clutch for even ground, chest coiling with a scream she has no power to release.

Soto.