Blackfeather Woods they made deserts; they called it peace

she's lost much of the bulk of pregnancy, and with her children's ever-growing independence she allows herself to stray further and further from the den. it is night now; they are asleep and only a short distance away in the glen below. she is perched on the edge of one of the three steep cliff faces that ring the glen, peering upward at the stars splayed across the sky. it has been a long while since she'd watched them, remembered old tales, and it is almost comforting to do so now, tracing the stars as if they are old friends.

Ramsay had yet to seek out Cassiopeia since her return to Blackfeather Woods. Some of it was related to his usual solitary apathy, but a lot of it had to do with the conflicting feelings he had in regards to her return. It is your home, but it can never be mine. That's what Cassiopeia told him when he offered her a place in the woods before. He didn't understand what had changed besides her pregnancy and couldn't shake the feeling that they were being used, so he avoided going to her for a time, afraid of what he might say.

Ramsay wasn't actively looking for Cass now, either, but some subconscious train of thought brought him to the glen all the same. He found her there, not watching over her babes the way he would have expected, but in a sense she still was. He couldn't help pursing his lips as he studied her from afar, caught between wanting to confront her and wanting to keep to himself. In the end, he swung toward her and padded forward, consciously amplifying the sounds of his steps so she would know of his arrival.

He craned his head painfully to try to follow her line of sight, but it was futile. Looking up just wasn't something Ramsay was born to do. He pressed one disfigured shoulder against a tree trunk, grounding himself, then turned his head to face her full before baldly asking, why did you come back?