Broken Antler Fen I hear the wicked get no rest.

She'd kept oddly close to the den in the past few days. Dunno—maybe it was her mama's constant underlying sense of sorrow that had gotten to her, or maybe Lilitu was feeling down, herself. Either way, her drive to explore and interact had waned lately. 

And misery loved company, so when she saw her mother ahead on one of her circular strolls around the fen, Lilitu made a beeline for Ibis.

D'you think they'll come back? she asked. She knew that Ibis was thinking about them, too. The way she stared . .the girl did the same, often, looking for the familiar silhouettes of her father, her sister on the horizon. She sat with a small huff next to her mother, allowing herself to lean slightly against Ibis—

But only slightly. Grown as she was, they were about the same height now, and Lilitu was still growing. She could no longer brace herself against her mother like she used to; she would bowl the poor diminutive woman over.