Wheeling Gull Isle All this sand but only one grain changed me

The answer further compounded her pain, but she said nothing, only giving him a weak smile and a nod in response. His explanation was not unfamiliar. She had done much the same with the remnants of Blackfeather Woods, when it grew obvious they were too weak to last out the winter. Taken them to the mountains—whether they joined her in Diaspora or not.

Several moons now, Maegi said in response to the query. The home my husband and I shared was lost to a fire. And not just the trees, either.

She didn't want to talk about Onyx Hollow, so she addressed his previous sentiments instead. When we spoke last, I was leader of a pack called Blackfeather Woods, she explained, not sure how much he remembered of her. We lost many to the earthquakes—do you remember those? Our numbers were too small to survive on our own. So we left, joined with another pack.

Her eyes met his. Curious; they both held bi-colored gazes, and she wondered whether he might be some wayward Melonii, at least some generations removed. It's not your fault, she continued softly. I blamed myself for a long time—I still do—but you have to do what's right. It's a hard decision, but your wolves will be safer for it.

After all, she and Mou and Elfie had enjoyed a relatively charmed existence in the mountains before they had departed to search for Sakhmet, eventually stumbling upon the Hollow. Failures were ever-present; it was what one made of them afterward that counted.