Hushed Willows I will relentlessly shame myself in rest, in wake, in front of

Note to self: pulling this to present!

Sometimes she thought about leaving.

Not truly, not for any true reason; only the lingering ghost of fear, the urge to break free and run before the storm on the horizon finally caught her. The storm, yes; she sensed it, it was in the wind and under her paws, it was in her dreams and always dancing at the tip of her tongue. He would grow tired of her. He would leave her. But not if she left first.

It was love that kept Reverie among the willows. It was the kind of love that meant she would stay, that she would leave herself vulnerable to this sundering if only to spare Boone that same heartbreak. She couldn't bear the thought; the image that came to her sometimes, her husband waking alone to an empty den, an empty forest, the promise of a future swept away on the breeze. It was the same fate she feared for herself. It was the way her nightmares began of late, the thing that kept her sleepless and frayed, the reason she felt sick sometimes when he parted from her. She would not leave. She would be the one to wake alone to an empty den, one day.

And the fear had gnawed into her bones now, and she did not know what to do. Her family was too far to turn to for comfort or advice. Reverie, in desperation, had taken to a foolish, hopeless endeavor: teaching herself to dance again.

She wasn't ready. Even if she had been, her leg would never work as it once had. It wasn't yet healed but here she was, fumbling through familiar steps of a dance meant to call down the rain. She fell; once, twice, three times. She sat down to cry, and tried again. But in her heart she knew that she would not dance again. Not the way she once had.

Mae returned to the willows feeling very unlike herself. Detached; haunted by the feeling of slowly drifting away from her own body. She greeted @Blossom briefly on her way in, but it was Reverie she sought when she passed the borders. She had questions.

Hey, uh, Reverie, She called out when she found her, not fully registering what she was seeing at first. I was wondering - Mae stopped short, blinking at the woman for a second. Was she crying? You uh, you good? Say yes say yes say yes.

It was Mae who found her, to Reverie's chagrin. She stood abruptly, straightening her fur self-consciously and trying to focus on what Mae was saying. Oh, yeah, I'm - I'm fine, Reverie made an effort to discreetly brush her tears away, grateful for the opportunity to shift the conversation away from herself. What were you wondering about?

It was the first time Mae had asked her any kind of question since that first conversation. Reverie tried not to look too eager.

Mae was more relieved than she would ever admit when Reverie said she was fine. She was hardly equipped to handle her own emotions, much less anyone else's. Didn't Reverie have a husband for that, anyway?

So, Mae immediately launched into the subject on her mind with no small amount of enthusiasm. I was thinkin' - the plant thing, that's pretty cool, ya know, medicine is useful and all. But what about poison? Silver eyes glinting, tail waving with an uncharacteristic excitement. Reverie had to know something.

Poison. Reverie's heart dropped into her stomach. What could Mae want with poison? Immediately she became a helpless bystander to her own thoughts, leaping to the worst conclusions against her own will: Mae wanted to hurt herself. She wanted to hurt someone else. Something terrible had happened, something Reverie didn't know about, and now — poison — !

No, She was surprised by the firmness of her own voice, though it wavered a little; this was the liveliest she'd ever seen Mae. Reverie didn't want to say no, but... That's - well, you know that's dangerous, don't you, Mae? Poison is - it's an awful way to die. If - if you're thinking about hurting someone, or yourself, then that's - something we need to talk about. But I won't teach you how.

She saw the no before she heard it. It was written in Reverie's expression, and Mae could only think that none of it was fair. How else was she meant to learn — testing it herself? And not knowing, that wasn't an option, not for her. Mae started to bristle as Reverie went on, apparently thinking that she had some kind of say in the decision.

If you won't teach me, I'll just learn on my own, Mae asserted first, stepping back. But don't think you get to tell me what to do. You're not my fuckin' mom, and you never will be. We don't need to talk about anything. She almost said more, but suddenly didn't trust herself not to be cruel. So instead she turned away, hackles still bristling as she left Reverie behind.

Mae's anger was immediate and scathing; Reverie nearly flinched from it, eyes filling with tears all over again as the girl turned away from her.

Well. That had gone horribly. For a long while Reverie only stared at the place where she'd disappeared into the willows, wondering for the first time if she was at all prepared to deal with Mae's glaring emotional scars. She'd thought that her own horrible childhood would have made her — not an expert, but better than this, at least. But whatever sorrow Mae had come from was very different than what had created Reverie, that much was clear.

After a time she dried her eyes and went miserably to find @Boone.