Blackfeather Woods so you run and you run to catch up with the sun

It was true. No matter where they went, no matter who they found or spells they chanted, their next home would never be like the woods—they would never have Meldresi with them, not like Blackfeather’s occupants did.

“We will,” he agreed with a nod. “There will be new generations that come after them, new wolves to take their place. We will thrive once again, even with Meldresi’s children all now gone.” For though they were gone, her spirit and grandchildren still remained—her blood still flowed through even the deepest of roots within the woods, and that would never change. “But do you think you will miss your family?” he couldn’t help but ask, following up the news of her uncle’s departure. “Damien was the last of your lineage that could share the family history with you. Do you think you will regret not learning about the Melonii history?” Kove had been around for a long while now, longer than anyone currently there, but even he did not know the history in full—not of the family, at least. He knew his own, the blood of the north, but never had he thought to establish a superb understanding of the blood of the witches—never did he think he’d need to, that the Melonii family would dwindle so terribly.