Sleepy Fox Hollow Took this dagger in me and removed it

Hypocrisy was the sum of Wylla's life, after all.

How many times had she wallowed in the misery of not receiving a lick of respect, despite historically offering up none herself? She once assumed ownership of Grimnismal despite doing the least to deserve it. The pack should have belonged to Ingram and Lycaon, not her, never her.

How many times had she accused others of leaving when she herself did not stay? Tiercel wandering off was natural, the girl's own choice, but the seed her eldest planted that it was all her fault had taken root. Of course it was her fault! She had not been there for Tiercel and had been hard on her; maybe if Wylla was better, things would have happened differently.

And then Thade and Phaedra. She left them, too, and for what reason? Because a man found his way into her heart and proceeded to systematically strip her self worth away? No, she had done that to herself, expecting more of him than what he was willing to give. Expecting any sort of meaning attached. Once again, when Wylla did not get her way, she fled, and left her children to wonder if they were to blame for it.

Five years old, and hardly grown up at all.

The black shape who moved away was still Ingram in her fever haze, but Phaedra stood out in sharp relief as herself. First came the gentle command to not move, which Wylla obeyed mostly because she could not find the energy to do otherwise. Then something akin to forgiveness, maybe; at least, that was how she took it when tears sprang up in her eyes all of a sudden.

Maybe they think they're doing the right thing, said Phaedra, and Wylla could not even choke out a protest. She'd known she was not doing the right thing. Not for Phaedra, not for Thade, and not even for herself. She had done the easy thing; she had run away from her problems, like she always did, when it became clear she would have to fight for herself. She did the selfish thing.

After all, selfishness was the sum of Wylla's life.

I'm sorry, she croaked over sandpaper lips to her daughter, lucid for the moment, but only when it came to Phaedra. The rest of the world around her was little more than a smudge of colour, and if Mahler returned, he would not be recognized. You deserve so much better, my love.