Moonsong Glacier a tear in the membrane

He hadn't stuck around with dad and Towhee and Meerkat. Not again.
It wasn't that he hadn't wanted to, because that childish part of him still yearned — oh, how horribly it did so. But his dad was happy, elsewhere; happy without him. And the most sour reaches of his mind could not bear to witness it.
He wanted to go to the isle, to visit it; to think that, maybe, it would make him feel some sort of wholeness, and yet he could not bring himself to go up the coast no matter how hard he tried. What would even greet him if he showed up? How would he feel? Was it even a good idea?
And so, he didn't; he didn't go to the caldera, either. Instead, he lingers near the mountains like an absolute pansy, wedged between the ranges in the woodland valleys. The ever-daunting Silvertip hosts a glacier and it is bitter and unwelcoming; harsh winds, frozen waste everywhere he looks. There are people here, too, people he doesn't know.
Admittedly, he is curious.

yoink

Eventually, she meandered inland. Maegi had encountered no familiar ghosts upon the island, and the living faces there either were frightened by or shunned her presence.

And that was fine. She was used enough to that in life, anyway.

But, oh! She marveled at her unblemished appearance, gazing into every pool and rill she stumbled upon to see her face as it once was. As beautiful as her mother, she thought—at least on the outside. No scar upon her cheek, no ragged ear from Towhee's rage—

Speak of the devil.

Were it possible for her to be cold, still, she would have shivered. But as she drifted closer to the figure, she realized it wasn't the old she-wolf, after all. No, this was a young man, and the sight of him filled her with an equal measure of joy and trepidation. . .

Peregrine, Maegi called out, voice like distant wind chimes. The son that could have been.

Peregrine
His head whips around so fast he could have broken his neck right then and there. Shivering, shuddering, body pulled in on itself to preserve what little smouldering heat he could produce on his own.
He knew that face. Or he thought he did. But he cannot smell her.
Either way, a child never forgets their — Momma?
He hadn't expected to crumble in front of her the way he did. His knees buckle and he drops into the snowbanks, a boyish, otherworldly cry breaching his lips. He hadn't expected —
Why did she... look... like that?

Oh, she did not mean— Her face fell along with his legs, and she forged forward to meet him, planting her cool muzzle upon his brow;

A gentle kiss, a reassurance.

My baby, she whispered, smiling past the tears. I haven't seen you in so long. . .

How handsome he'd grown! She stepped back, taking him all in. Obviously nothing of her blood—but Mou's, for sure. A Redhawk born and bred; she can't help grinning at the sight, wondering at how her life had taken such twists and turns.

How are you? Maegi asked, tilting her head.

My baby
The last time he had seen her, he told her he hated her. Boyish rage. A grave misunderstanding of what ungodly circumstances held him and his siblings. Prevost. Vesper. Forgotten son.
Her baby.
She kisses him and he cannot feel it. How are you, she asks, as if this is at all normal, as if he could — Momma, his eyes are wide and his lip begins to tremble uncontrollably. what happened to you? Why can't I-- he reaches out to touch her and his paw glides right through the air, landing with a thwack against the sheet of porcelain snow.
His cry, shattering; why can't I touch you?

Peregrine's cry brought all the ones she'd lost in life to the forefront of her mind, and tears welled up in her own eyes. How would have she reacted, if they had come to her as ghosts? 

Though many times, she had fervently wished for that very thing.

I've passed on, Peregrine, Maegi explained somberly. I was sick, five or six seasons ago, and it took my life.

And I don't know why I've returned, now. But she would make the most of it, for however long it lasted.

Vesper and Blueberry live on the island, she continued. I've not seen Prevost. And Mou. . .

She shook her head, not expecting Peregrine to know the whereabouts of his uncle—his erstwhile father. What mattered was that the young man was here. . .and hate no longer colored his words toward her.

Oh, I love you so, Maegi whispered, smiling. You've grown up so well.

i'm so sorry we couldn't finish this thread in time ;; <3 i'll tack on a conclusion here! i'm happy they got to reunite <333

i've passed on, peregrine.
the boy's face contorts from shock to anger to despair and back to something unexplainable, unreadable, reticent. oh.
this was a dream. he understood now. his brain had morphed maegi, stitched her together from the ether, and had brought her to him. perhaps it was to heal his subconscious, to make him forgive her for things he could not even remember being cross with her over.
i love you too, momma. he wished he could hug her. i'm sorry.
for a while, he tells her how he's been; his plan to return to the caldera, how his meeting went with his dad, and how he hadn't seen mou or prevost or vesper in a long long time. he does not tell her that it still hurts. that everything still hurts and that he still burns with a spark of energy that he cannot seem to make go away.
but for now, the pain is numbed with the cool of her scentless breath.
he is sorry.