there is comfort in wandering alone once more - perhaps it is the familiarity of it, as if solitude is an old friend. she drifts gradually southward, pausing longer in places heavy with wolf-scent, and is more or less content. and yet, she can not help but check the empty place at her side where one or both of her daughters would follow, and it is them, and her bond to Maegi, that pull her ever southward once more.
she pauses at the banks of a stream to sate her thirst, drinking deeply despite the cold shock of the creek - so much so it almost burns as she drinks. the comparison drudges up memories she'd thought long forgotten, of a dark wood and an icy creek and Screech. put-off, her attentiveness is dulled as her gaze is pulled down to the water.
she pauses at the banks of a stream to sate her thirst, drinking deeply despite the cold shock of the creek - so much so it almost burns as she drinks. the comparison drudges up memories she'd thought long forgotten, of a dark wood and an icy creek and Screech. put-off, her attentiveness is dulled as her gaze is pulled down to the water.
That is not dead which can eternal lie.
And with strange aeons even death may die.
And with strange aeons even death may die.
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