The Floodlands Steady feet, don't fail me now

She smiled in appreciation, heartened by Elwood's sentiment even if she knew there was much more nuance to it than that. Her expression faded into a frown when he asked her about her son. Could she talk about it without crying? She wasn't sure, though she supposed it didn't really matter. Her godfather wasn't going to judge her.

"When I was leaving Drageda, I told my youngest four where I was going and gave them the choice to come with me or stay there. My daughter, Kiwi, came with me, as you know, and my sons, Silkie and Tux, opted to stay in Drageda. I didn't speak to much of anyone else, including my elder two. Blixen had enough on her plate already, standing in for the commander, and Artaax was long gone in search of Bat.

We found Bat here, of course, and Artaax ran into her near here not long after. I knew he'd be unhappy about what we'd done but I was naïve, Uncle El. In Drageda, it's considered treason to leave. There's a word for it: natrona. It doesn't just piss them off or anything as simple as that. They hunt down the traitors and kill them. Artaax has promised that's what he'll do."

Her voice failed her there; it felt like someone was clutching her by the throat. Wildfire swallowed convulsively, trying to stave off the tears, but her eyes watered anyway. When she blinked, two perfect teardrops tumbled down her fine red cheekbones to land in the snow at her feet, freezing on impact.