Blackfeather Woods you were not born of stardust, darling, stardust was born from you

Qilaq lay there for a long moment, head turned slightly to the side to peer up at Nemesis long after she’d asked the question. The dark girl stares upward with a lazy smile on her face and her tongue draped from the side of her mouth, not caring that she’s actually touching the ground with it. She can rest there all day, if she were allowed, but there’s a glimmer of impatience that shines through on her mother’s face.

She shifts a little and rolls over until she’s flat on her side, dried out tongue sucked back into her mouth, and she’s slowly able to prop herself up. Even through her fatigue, she feels better, having come off days of a fever and feeling a little normal. Her feet dragging often enough had become normal and she doesn’t let her slow down. She enjoys the walks and the noses and the playing and even when the feeling of slumber weighs her eyes down, she enjoys that too.

Carefully, she drags herself to stand and hops a few bounds forward to return her home where she’ll collapse and fall asleep.