Wheeling Gull Isle the child is grown; the dream is gone

set last night, December 19

"Once upon a time, there were three pups—two little boys, one as black as night and the other gray and white, and a little girl, fur like the moon. Their names were Ramsay, Euron and Maegi."

"That's you, Mama!"

"That's right, Miseria—and the boys are my brothers. . .your uncles. Anyway, one day, I—ah, Maegi was playing around with something in the Glen—that's where we grew up, a little hollow with some dens—when Euron brought her a feather. . ."

If wolves could sweat, she'd be drenched. She awoke with a start, alongside the sleeping form of her husband, sides heaving, heart pounding. Shaking herself, she rose slowly and silently and left the small depression in the earth they called their own.

Into the cool night air she went, traveling down the slope, through the trees, a specter breaking onto the beach, bathed in moonlight.

A sob escaped her, chest burning. Miseria's childish voice still reverberated through her mind and it would not leave. She smelled her son, her daughter; she felt the softness of the feather and how light it had been to carry. Lighter than air. . .

Overcome, Maegi crumpled into a heap on the sand, tears darkening the ivory fur upon her cheeks, her nose, falling crystalline and sinking into the earth. It was Seelie's domain, still, always, but her mind was trapped within Onyx Hollow. Her lungs had healed, the ashes were gone, and still—still!—she found a whiff of smoke everywhere she went.

Her failure. It had followed her even here.

She had been relishing the stars when she heard the sobs. Gailiv had grown up in the thick of the jungle, there was no seeing the sky. Here, this night, they shone as bright as she had ever seen them. Even the other wolf had pools of moonlight draped over her shaking body.

"Are you OK?" Gailiv approached, wary and awkward but concerned. She'd been that tearful heap on the ground many times in her life, and she wanted to help.

Somewhere within the emotional maelstrom, Maegi caught the question. She rolled over to stare at the keeper of that voice, blinking back tears, her face taut in anguished incredulity. Am I okay? she repeated, the words snot-muffled but undoubtedly terse. Do I look—

But the energy for barbs left her, suddenly, and she let her voice trail off. Sighing, Maegi brought herself to a more dignified sitting position. Her eyes wandered over the plain brown form (though envious of the wholeness of her). She was silent for a beat or two more before speaking again.

No, she continued, I'm not okay. Her nostrils flared, trying to ascertain how long this woman had been on the island—they certainly hadn't properly met before. You new here?

Eventually, she tired of the conversation, and moved on, stalking ghostlike along the turbulent coast.