Dragoncrest Cliffs i pull god's roots out

bobby's words make sense, and that's the cruelest trick of all. it would almost be easier if it'd been nonsensical, if it'd been some random accident, something they couldn't understand -- but this has shape and meaning and it winds her.

drageda is yours, wormana.

 "no," she gasps, just as artaax takes off. for a crazy moment, she nearly follows him, but her feet are stones, sunk deep into hougeda's loamy ground. now she'll cry, she thinks, but doesn't. she can feel every individual nerve ending go numb at once. 

she has to -- she has a duty. "bobby," she says, unsticking from time ( she is

a child, and wildfire has been taken, and she tells nomi she wants to get strong enough to protect everyone

a fledgling warrior, in teasing competition with artaax for nomi's approval, impatient and impetuous and running her mouth when she shouldn't

an overbearing sister, trying to push bobby to contribute, be more like her and artaax, like nomi, but secretly, finding joy in his careless attitude

being asked to step up for nomi the first time -- being asked to lead a new branch --)

"i understand."

and blixen leaves, too, not the same panicked, heartbroken flight as her brother, but a calm, slow procession to the cliffs. she needs to make it real with her own senses; then she will call the pack to her and let them know, too. 

she does not look back.