A quiet hush had fallen over Nadia’s soul. She had lost both her daughters, Seraphina gone to Drekistone and death having snatched Wraith. Wraith, bless her, had jumped into the sea, rather than let the plague finish her off. Nadia had failed her daughters, despite loving them and caring for them. Seraphina had felt the need to relocate herself to a different pack. As for Wraith - she had died and Nadia had survived somehow. She should have been the one to go. She was the mother, she was older than her daughters, she should have died before either of them. Yet, the plague had seized Wraith. In turn, Nadia’s beautiful younger daughter had leapt from the cliff. How could she justify herself? She hadn’t been able to help Sera or Wraith.
Esmae’s call instilled a deep fear in Nadia . . . why was it she calling? Had Kratos been stricken by the plague, leaving Esmae to rule all by herself? She hadn’t been paying attention to anything. Not since Wraith’s death. She reluctantly dragged herself out of her den, a dark cloud hanging over Nadia’s being. She forced herself to walk to the clearing. Looked up to see Esmae, all alone in front of everyone, looking every inch a queen. Nadia’s tails dragged behind her, seeming to slow her down. She was weak from neglecting her body. The scarlet flowers on Nadia’s back, blood red, and the dark green leaves, were limp. Dying.

“Just not home!”