Blackfeather Woods you were not born of stardust, darling, stardust was born from you

Nemesis hovers above her, looking down, and Qilaq peers upward at the dark figure. It’s strange, she thinks, how much more involved her mother is all of a sudden. Perhaps because she had been missing a few days, but when she thinks back on them, she finds it difficult to drudge up from the back of her mind. Most times, she tries to avoid it, but the inability haunts her. She thought there had been another one, small like her, but had been replaced by the large white one. He’d been kind enough to her that she didn’t try to pursue the memory for too long.

A nose against her skin distracts her for a moment and she squeals with the delight feeling the graze of teeth against her skin. Her limbs swarm around the muzzle and she buries her face into the top until she’s backed up and talking again, but the words wash over her. Qilaq remains on her back with limbs flailing about, beckoning the nose to return.