Blackfeather Woods brothers

She passed by the poison tree, and thought of staying close—but no. Cicero was dead, and that part of her was, too.

Instead, she traveled to the Spiderlings' Den. And as she walked, she felt the shadows of past guardians around her. She leaned against Miraak, and Cassiopeia.

She was supported each step, and fell into her childhood home with not an umph but a sigh.

Spiderlings' Glen.

Wretched and wracked by the earthquake. She remembered it. But the whelping den remained intact. She found her footing and strode toward it, a little unsteady on her paws.

Oh. . .

Potema had been so neglectful, but in that space she'd had her brothers.

Ramsay. Euron.

She felt them pressed against her as she entered the den, almost to suffocating, and she gulped—no, she could breathe, she just was overcome by it all.

By them here.

Not even their adult forms, but small—they were all a small, pathetic threesome, pressed against a womb that did not care.

But she cared.

She cared for them.

Ramsay—Euron—

Her small legs kicked, searching—

They were here.

She was safe.

Potema be damned.

Darkness fell.

The trio lived.