Wheeling Gull Isle when silence gets too hard to handle

She stood on the beach, where the snow faded into sand, staring in horror at the cloud of smoke on the horizon.

Not here. It couldn't come here. Fire can't jump water—

And yet hadn't it crossed streams, racing from tree to tree, wreaking havoc on the hollow? "Mama!" she heard, shrieking in her mind, and her ears flattened, the sea-spray mixing with sudden tears.

Please, no, Maegi begged in a ragged whisper, her eyes fixed on the foreboding dark plume. Not again. Not again.

This was, she supposed, her punishment. Divine retribution for her congress with Mou. She had given in, had given her husband her body, and would now pay for it. They would burn—no, others would burn, for the two of them never did.

Others would burn, and they'd be left among the smoldering wreckage, vowing never again.

A shudder ran through her, coursing through blood and bone and lifting each and every hair on her windswept pelt.

Mou woke to the chill of an absence beside him. He had kicked himself awake; dreaming of the hollow where his children had burned. He had been running. He had been ash and smoke while they had become embers, twisting together and then parting upon the wind. Maegi had been there — standing alone and out of his reach — and when he looked for her after waking, Mou was afraid.

There was something wrong. He saw her finally, standing out of his reach with her back to him. Staring away from the island. The sky was dark but not for them; the darkness was clinging to the mainland as if the night sky were to bleed across the horizon. He went to her. She was shaking — pleading with the dark.

He sank beside her and tried to focus his one good eye just right, a frown uncoiling across his long face.

Fear had strangled her, so much so that when her mate pulled alongside her, she couldn't speak. She pushed her nose into his scruff, breathing him in, trying to bury the smell of smoke that had taken up near-permanent residence in her psyche. Squeezed her eyes shut. It was dark, now. Calmer. Warmer.

If she could only live within the embrace of her husband, and not have to face the world beyond, she would be a much happier woman.

Fire, Maegi finally managed after a few long, silent moments. There's fire over there. And I'm. . .I'm afraid. I know that—it's—it can't. . .

She cleared her throat, opened her eyes, saw a whorl of fur upon his shoulder blade that was out of place. She smoothed it gently down with her tongue, choosing to stare at the myriad shades of gray within his pelt rather than out at the waves again. It can't get to us. I know that. But I'm still. . .scared.

Did he know? He must suspect, at least, that things had changed for them again.

They shared the same fear. They were two lost souls twinning through the universe; that the sight of such disaster might cause visions of their own experiences was not a surprise. Mou did not need to speak to issue his understanding. He pressed closer to Maegi, wanting to hold her, afraid to encroach while she voiced her fear.

We are safe, he sighed, letting his voice be soft as he tenderly tried to assuage what he could of her feelings. He was not afraid of it — Mou saw the rise of darkness from the horizon and somewhere beneath the salt smell of the beach could detect a familiar note of dust, or perhaps it was merely an imagined smouldering — but it was far removed from them.

It can't touch us here.

She clung doggedly to his words. It felt better to hear him say them aloud, too. The smoke continued to purl over the horizon, but it seemed farther removed now. . .less of a threat. To them—to their babies.

I'm pregnant, she murmured, resting her chin upon his shoulders. There it was—she had finally said it aloud. Maegi smiled, the expression hidden from him due to her position, but she was sure it was present in her voice. I think so, anyway. It feels the same. . .like it was with Miseria and Hypnos.

Two healthy pups. Just two, but words like "only" or "just" seemed too cruel for the pair of blessings that had been bestowed upon her. And if just one of these embryos lived, if just one was able to be protected, it was worth it.

They would have succeeded. Finally.

Maegi finally pulled away after a brief pause, bumping her nose against his cheek in a gentle kiss.

Mou had to believe that they were safe on this island. This was where they had met, after all. This was a sanctuary to the both of them at another time in their life - separate, then together. It was here that their legacy would truly take root and flourish; he had to trust in the island, knowing what the rest of the world was like and what it had taken from them.

When she pressed close for a kiss, he relished the attention and nosed through her fur, sniffling softly at the fine white hairs of her neck. Hearing the names of their first-born should have stung but it did not. Mou didn't want to think about them. He didn't want to hear the screaming of their voices anymore, begging for help.

We are safe here. They -- they'll be safe here, Mou sighs, moving to stroke at his wife's ribs with his nose - almost timid, nervous that one touch might shatter her and the hope she carried inside. I promise. I'll do anything.

Little shivers ran through her at his touch, yet she was suddenly warm, as if she were in heat again. But that had passed—clearly. Maybe it was just Mou that made her feel warm when she ordinarily felt so cold. The ice she'd built upon around her only melted for a select few, and for him, it fell away altogether.

I know you will, Maegi murmured, and smiled. It's a good place for children. I enjoyed growing up here.

What would she be like, had those formative months been still within the confines of Blackfeather Woods? She might have turned out more like her parents, twisted creatures as they were. Crueler, and more beholden to the darkness. She certainly had been well on that path when Serem had taken her to Shadow Mountain.

But Coelacanth and the wolves of Undersea had shown her that a different life, a better life, was possible. That was the life Mou and Maegi would bring to their children here.

They would be kind, though fierce notwithstanding. And they would be loved.