Blacktail Deer Plateau i can't escape the way i love you

Today, she looked for @Mou.

Blueberry was old enough to be by herself for short periods of time—and if Maegi really wanted to examine the darker parts of herself, she figured the girl would slip away with or without their supervision. It was inevitable, right? So why bother?

Maybe it would be best if Phox took all the children. Maybe the Redhawks were better off raising young.

Maybe. . .

Yes, it had to be. But she couldn't go it alone.

Whatever dark abyss was to swallow her up, she would obey only if her husband was at her side. For his sake, and for the children's, she would continue.

But Sakhmet's scent was fading. Peregrine was angry, Vesper withdrawn, Blueberry. . . And the rest, dead.

So it was only him. And maybe he felt the same.

Maybe. . .

She strolled across the plateau at her customary slow hobble, the call for her mate slowly dissipating, echoing off the tree-bereft field.

Nowhere. Nothing.

Try as he might to find their lost ones, Mou only failed.

Then the call came from Maegi and the ghost wormed his way to where she waited, himself a hunched spectrum of commonplace heartache, vague agitation and weighted weariness.

He stopped alongside her and chuffed breathily.

She pushed her nose into his scruff, as was customary. Left it there, breathing deep, taking in the scent of him. So grounding—almost enough to make her forget the rest of it. Almost.

I think we should have your brother take all the children back to the Redhawks, she said. Her voice was muffled; she was afraid to look at him, to see the heartbreak in his eyes. Vesper, Peregrine. . .and Blueberry, too.

After a few heartbeats, Maegi pulled back, steeling herself for his expression. Before he could say anything, she rushed on, almost tripping over herself to get the words out.

I'm done, Mou, she whispered. Her gaze met his, searching, pleading. I want out. I want it all to end—and I want you to do it with me.

It was an outrageous question for anyone else, but he had been her companion for so long, with her through thick and thin, the best of times and the worst of times. They were the only ones who understood each other, who found commonality in their faults, fears and fuck-ups.

And she couldn't—she wouldn't—die without him.

He welcomed her touch and the feeling of connection that sparked across his skin, the warmth that only his wife had ever shown to him. Rewarding Mou, the undeserving, with love and loyalty and (as hard as it was sometimes to think about) family.

It had become difficult for Mou to separate himself from the remaining children. He loved them as his own; try as he might to keep a healthy distance emotionally, the man fell victim to the weakness of his own heart. As Maegi made her initial request, Mou drew in a sharp breath - a piercing sound falling from his throat.

Whatever faith he had to spare for their family was fragile. The foundations quaked with every loss. Maegi was claiming defeat; that their curse could spill over any child they cared for, any being they learned to love, was a calculation Mou could not ignore.

Neither could he accept it.

They're our kids. Shook his voice, his chin dipped against his chest. But they weren't. They both knew the children would be better cared for by Phox, and so Mou could not fight Maegi on that.

He was silent as his wife spoke from the heart, shattering what was left of his.

She meant to give up, wholly? It was one thing to give up their family but to do away with life as well - when they had fought so long and so hard to survive and be together?

Mou couldn't look at her.

He couldn't think, and sank to the dirt in the manner of a marionette whose puppeteer had disengaged from participation.

She said nothing, only watched in increasing despair as he descended, as if boneless. She'd shattered him; she had known she would. But it could all go away. All of it.

I can't do this anymore, Maegi managed through a constricted throat, the words emerging on a sob. Her knees were watery, and she, too, fell slowly, nosing at his chin. I can't, Mou; I can't. I can't lose anyone else. I can't take a single step more.

Her tear-soaked face met the parched grass, the cracked dirt, her pale cheeks dirtied. I can't, she whispered.

I won't leave you. I won't hurt you. I can't go alone. But I can't go on.

Surely he understood?

The air was thick and sour as it pulsed from his lungs.

Mou stared at the dirt; he saw the shimmering of heat at the fringe of his vision and thought, is this a dream? Certainly. It had to be. Maegi would never give up on their family — on their love — and even if she did, he would have seen it coming.

This couldn't be real.

I can't do this anymore. She was pleading with him. Choking on an emotional plea that sounded wrong as it tumbled from her mouth. Losing child after child, at some point along the way Mou had lost his wife too.

The creature wearing Maegi's face, whatever it was, drew close enough to whisper in his ear. The voice was right but the words were wrong; the slightest touch of her nose to his chin proved she was there, her smell, her sorrow — but the longer Mou basked in her company the less and less he believed it.

Saying nothing for a long while, Mou finally turned in to the shape of the pale stranger and wrapped them tightly in an embrace. I love you, he managed, fumbling over the words as his sorrow deepened.

I'll do anything you want, you know that. Mou didn't know if he still spoke to his wife, or to the creature that wore her face. It could not have been her — Maegi would never accept defeat like this, never give up their children, never leave him; or so the broken man thought, his mind disjointed by such profound hurt.

I love you, she stressed, trying to find his single eyed-stare once more, hold it. He needed to know—not just hear the words, but feel them, too. After all, this was not a decision she was making lightly.

She swallowed, then continued. I'd like to go with your brother when he takes the children. We'll leave Blueberry there with them, and then. . .

Where? She knew where. She had always known where.

The poison tree. In Blackfeather Woods. We'll take more than our share of poppies and. . .go. She said it so matter-of-factly, like they were just out for some errands. But how else to approach it? Her hope for the future had waned to a crescent, a sliver of silver in a yawning black sky.

All she could see was this. There was no other way forward.

Fade?

Takes the children.

Blueberry.

The tree.

He hears her words, he feels her there with him; but altogether, Mou has checked out.
Go. He murmurs, feeling the prickle of the creature's pale fur against his cheek.

Mou thinks about his children — of Vesper too, even if she wasn't truly his, he felt a love and an ownership over her as much as Blueberry — and considers what their life would be like without him, them.

With the Redhawks. With their father.

I'm their father. He cannot say it now, not while the creature is present; but he knows the ache in his heart is for more than the loss of his wife. It is a strength. He has to be stronger now than ever before if he is going to save his children from this curse.