The Sunspire i had it all figured out, even what we would argue about

she drowned herself in the stars.  maybe this is what mato and terance and zada and olive and everone she had ever met had seen in them — they had found the same pull from the heavens that she had found from the sea (that was regrettably nowhere she could reach).

she was bare, stripped down and raw and as she shed her tired bones she reached out to the heavens, the gods.  perhaps she could find comfort in them tonight, too.  but just as she had begun to lose her earthly ties something gripped her and pulled her pack.

seabreeze?

he was at the same time the last and only wolf she wanted to see.  she felt vulnerable and exposed, and caught off guard she pulled a thin wrist to the narrow bend of her chest before she remembered —

that's not your place.

she cowed before him.  though she was already prone, her tail curled between her legs and her ears flattened.  the scalloping of her ribs quickened in pace, her heart fluttering to her chest as her stomach threatened to turn.

in her mind, his was already made.  she was too soft, she took things too personally and perhaps that was her biggest downfall of all — seeing hurt where there was none to be found.  in an instant she regretted everything again.  

she regretted washing up on shore and imagined her wave-wracked body being snapped by churning waves.  she imagined starving to death on the outskirts of tindome where with no doubt she would have taken too long to be found, covered in a sparse dusting of snow.  she imagined the sick crunch of her bones as she plummeted from sunspire's highest peaks.

but she forced it down.  if not for the children that she hoped imagined stirred inside her, than for the ones she would help olive and forrest bring into the world.