Lost Creek Hollow It was in Vienna

Exactly like mother.

Ambra says nothing. Her own relationship with Amara had been complicated, particularly since her family had shown their true Paragon colors on that one summer evening in her youth. Amara's had been a washed-out, muddy yellow. Complacency. Weakness. She had tended to surface wounds and let the hole in her daughter's heart bleed freely.

Many years later, a shell of a wolf sits in the snow, nodding along as her brother accuses Milan of crimes that could just as easily have been her own.

"Swearing fealty to outsiders," Ambra summarizes with a shake of her head, then, with a tremble in her voice. "Was.. was it fated that the stranger's children should live this day? To face their end when they understand why it must be so." Did you kill them?