Firefly Glen it's planting seeds in a garden you never see

The blackbird rested quietly that night, curled close to herself in a hollow of the mountain, but sleep did not come for her. Alone, Ciri took that private hour to yearn for the only part of her previous life she'd regretted leaving behind: her father.

Mahler, once a presence almost as constant as that of her mother, had suddenly become nonexistent. He'd promised to visit, an occasion that Ciri and her sister longed to come around, but part of her had begun to doubt the truth behind his words.

Moonspear wasn't all bad. She was still worried about fitting in, naturally, and continued to keep mostly to herself, but she was trying. With her mother's clear struggles and her own dampened spirits, it was the best that she could do.

Several voices rose in song from close by and, curious, the young Ostrega pricked her raven lobes to listen. There was pride in this cry of unity, and the sound lured her from her hiding place and out into the open. Ciri, unable to resist the instinct to join, did so tentatively at first. Her howl came softly, weakly, as though she'd never used it before. Taking a moment to swallow her heartache, she made a second attempt that came stronger than before, sent unwavering with hope for a promising future.