Neither Sue nor Jasper spoke up in the minutes that followed, both too transfixed on what Solstice was doing to dare interrupt her. They watched in silence as she levitated for a while longer before descending onto the soft grass. She kept staring at the Moon, first for reassurance, then for hope, and finally, for answers.
Not even all the emotions burning up in her head could keep her righteous wrath sustained forever, though. Her posture trembled, then broke as her legs wobbled underneath her, before eventually finding a tired, slightly hunched-over balance. Whatever she had witnessed and understood in the minutes that passed, it had come to an unceremonious end.
And now it was time to act on it. However terrifying the thought of that was.
Sue's eyes went wide at feeling the older Forest Guardian's attention so intensely upon her, even before she'd finished turning around. She felt a mass of anxiety build up in her chest for but a moment; a part of her wanted to run. Both impulses weakened at seeing the soft—and yes, motherly—smile on Solstice's face, though, and disappeared altogether at the words that followed. "^Sue. When I, when I mentioned that you'd earned the markings of my people yesterday, I... I wasn't lying, you know. You deserve them. So much more than Solanum, or Nightbane, or most of those scum. You've honored Her in your actions more than any of them could've dreamed of.^"
Because of having been replaced by shock, that is. "^Would you want them?^"
All thought ground to a standstill in Sue's head. And then, a moment later, it resumed in force, stirring up a whirlwind that left Sue at an utter loss for words. A part of her hoped the incident with her bringing up the markings in the first place would be forgotten altogether, but Solstice clearly hadn't. She remembered her off-colour joke; her disguised yearning, and was forcing her to confront it here and now.
But it wouldn't be this simple, of course. "W-wait, I—" Sue stammered, feeling panicked and honored at the same time. "H-how? Didn't you say they were a family thing? That they were supposed to be done by your parents or something? W-would it even be okay for me to have them since I'm," she glanced at Jasper, "not from your c-clan?" She wasn't sure why she was bringing up those rules, especially since the person who'd explained them to her didn't care about them. A part of her felt like she had to. To do whatever she could to ensure others wouldn't overstep their own boundaries, to keep tabs on things and don't let other people make mistakes they'd regret, to always keep one hand on the figurative steering wheel.
Solstice had the answers, though, with her own questions. Her tired body straightened out a bit as she approached the bench; her eyes radiated all the confidence she could muster. "^Okay for whom?^" she whispered, letting the words linger in the air. "^What's the point of those rules, those traditions, if all they do is degrade us? As you said, Sue, it's my world, not theirs. My culture, not theirs. My goddess, not theirs, and I'm done with letting them claim Her for themselves.^"
Still, some of Sue's questions had struck true, and both psychics could tell. Doubt crept back into Solstice's mind; her gaze jumped away from her pupil; her breath caught. And then she stopped, and clenched her hands once more. Sue had a point—there were parts of her culture that only degraded their participants, but there were also others that gave it meaning in the first place. The line separating the two was jagged, almost fractal, but the marking ritual being about the family was on the former side. That much Solstice, despite everything, was certain about. "^But, you do have a point, Sue. They are a 'family thing.'^"
Which left the obvious solution.
Sue leaned into her seat, mouth agape, as Solstice knelt before her and extended a hand for her to take. "^Would you... want to be my family, then?^"
The green limb loomed in the air, clearly visible despite only being lit up by the flimsy moonlight. Sue's eyes drilled into it, and in doing so, drilled back into herself, as if it'd been made of glass. Every single stray thought about Solstice's maternal tone or mannerisms or affection came back in full force, not letting their observations be sarcastically discarded again. And now that Sue had to confront not just them, but the offer before her, she was terrified.
Do I want this?
The flurry of thoughts provided no answer.
Do I deserve this?
Something oily, deep inside her head, tried to grasp her by the throat. A dozen voices screamed 'NO' directly into her ears, and yet, and yet, there was one that kept whispering the opposite, despite everything.
Is it right for me to want this?
Agonized mind fought against itself, dredging up all it had learned during her stay in this world. The question was strangling her psyche even as she tried to shake it off. Because whether it was right didn't matter, all that did was whether she did want it.
Is it fair? To myself, to Solstice, to my mom, to Aurora; is it right!?
Screams echoed inside her. She thought back, desperately, to her talk with Sundance about Aurora and her own family. She held onto the idea that Aurora wouldn't mind, that her parents wouldn't mind; tried to bash her emotional fears away with cold, factual answers. Despite how scummy it made Sue feel to acknowledge, it clearly was fair to Solstice as well—she wouldn't have been offering it otherwise.
DO I WANT THIS?
...
Sue blinked, and her thoughts went silent. There was just her, the cold wood of the bench digging into her back, the soft grass around them, the girl sleeping on her lap, and last, the Forest Guardian before her. She was looking at her with concern. With hope. With love. Sue's right hand twitched and rose into her view. It was weird. Three-fingered, misshapen, unwieldy. Not what anyone ought to have wanted.
And yet, it looked just like the other hand before her. Three-fingered. Warm. Soft.
Ready to be grasped.
Maybe I've had it all wrong this entire time, too.
Maybe I cannot know if I'm worthy of this. Maybe I'll never know.
...
...
But I can believe.
Sue blinked again, and her hand was holding Solstice's. Hardly the first time they'd ever touched, but now it felt different. Warmer. Or maybe she'd just stopped trying not to notice certain things. Did it matter anymore?
Something wet splashed against her front horn.
"Y-yes," Sue whimpered, answering after minutes of increasingly distressed silence. "Please."
The moments that followed were a blur. Before Sue knew it, her tired self was leaning on Solstice, embraced as closely as their anatomies would allow. Her cheeks were sticky, and the hand that had taken her mentor's moments earlier was now embracing her, trying to pull her in closer. As close as possible. She looked up, meeting Solstice's loving, caring, motherly gaze. And for the first time in over a decade, allowed it to banish all doubt from her mind, if for a second.
It fought to creep back in; it was prying at the walls of whatever serenity she'd clawed out, but Solstice's touch made it possible to endure it. Not without effort, not without struggle, not without active reassurance that she deserved this, but possible all the same.
"Would..." Sue whispered, a stray thought demanding closure, "would it be okay for me to call you 'mom', then?"
Dread went through them both like a crack through ice, but not even it could hope to undo the bond they'd finally allowed themselves to acknowledge. "^Of course, if you'd be comfortable with that. And in return, would you want me to refer to you as my daughter?^" Solstice asked.
"Yes, please," her daughter answered reflexively.
The smile that crept its way onto the older Forest Guardian's expression made Sue blush, but she only leaned in closer to her parent. She was tired; this was comfortable enough to suffice for now, and the warmth blooming inside her chest was valiantly pushing away the creeping cold of the world around them. Thoughts coiled in her head, wanting to be let out, but they could wait for a while. Closing her eyes for a moment wouldn't hurt—
"^No sleeping yet, sweetie,^" Solstice giggled, and then again, more loudly, in response to her daughter's fluster at the word. "^Joy might be small enough to carry, but I don't quite think you are anymore~ Though, we could get going soon if you'd want.^"
The drawn-out, guttural sound that left Sue's throat filled the scene with more laughter—and this time, Solstice wasn't the only one laughing. The Mayor leaned towards Jasper, letting Sue look at him as well, and share in his amusement. It took him a moment to realize that the attention had shifted to him, but once he had, he awkwardly silenced himself again. His red eyes bounced between the mother and daughter before he finally stammered out, "W-well! I suppose that incident at your tent r-really wasn't all there was to it between you two in the end!" There was a reservation in his tone, as if he wasn't sure how he was supposed to feel about what he'd just witnessed, but for now he was content to be happy along with the two Forest Guardians.
"Nope!" Solstice retorted, switching back to her physical voice. It almost cracked. Sue let out an amused exhale through her nostrils, and earned herself a modest hair ruffle in response.
Good Duck that feels nice.
And then another one, immediately afterwards.
"C-congratulations. Though, l-like you said, we should probably hold off on any more celebrating u-until we're back in Moonview. Ready to get going, Sue?" Jasper ever-so-gently urged.
Sue shook her head. She wouldn't need to be carried; that'd be so much more awkward than even this exchange had been, but she needed a moment to get her bearings. A short walk wouldn't hurt; one round around the cemetery ought to have been plenty. "Could you give me a moment first? N-need to clear my head, I think."
"Who wouldn't after something like that," Solstice beamed at her. She then helped her sit up straight again and levitated Joy onto her own lap, freeing Sue's legs. "Want me to look after Twinkle as well while you're gone?"
The younger Forest Guardian nodded her daze off, untied the cloth bag around her shoulder, and got back on her legs. And then, on cue, was reminded of a certain tool that would help in making one of those legs hurt less. Said tool was then gently tapped against her forearm by Jasper, and after a quick thanks, she was free to go with just her drained, overworked mind to keep her company. She could've sworn she saw Jasper reach out towards her cane arm in the corner of her eye after she got moving, but both of them were too mentally spent to follow up on that gesture.
It took approximately twenty steps and four deep inhales for the reality of the situation to finally hit her. It had happened. Despite everything, despite how much she paled compared to Aurora, Solstice really took her in as a daughter. And she couldn't even argue that she'd pressured her into doing that, since it all came from her. What felt inconceivable just yesterday was now a fact, however outlandish it still felt to think about. Sue had no idea how she ought to feel at that, really. Maybe the implications of it all would only register with after she'd gotten some rest. Maybe she'd already processed it, and there just weren't any more earth-shattering doubts to fight back against.
Maybe she had finally earned this. They had finally earned this.
That wasn't to say there was nothing to think about during the moment of downtime, though. Sue was still unsure what exactly getting those markings implied, even if she knew that she did want them. Not for the connection to the Pale Lady, definitely not for the connection to Solstice's clan, but just for her. To have the bond between them go beyond just words, now that they'd allowed themselves to acknowledge its existence.
Just hope it won't hurt too badly.
The thought stirred a breathy chuckle in her lungs and took her out of her head long enough to realize she'd almost tripped on the cemetery's stone perimeter. Being entirely content with only doing that once in her life, she turned to her right and got going—before something caught her attention. Her eyes had been passively scanning the multicolored inscriptions on the stones, well-visible despite the limited light, and noticed an odd pattern in the corner of her vision.
A row of rounded headstones lined a part of the perimeter, out of alignment with the rest of the cemetery. What was much harder to disregard as just a planning failure, though, was that to the best of her ability to tell, all of those headstones bore the same symbol. They formed a gradient from most damaged to the least, with the leftmost stone's inscription looking not even a month old. Unlikely to have been a shared grave in that case.
The new, bold mystery displaced the existential fretting from Sue's mind long enough to let her complete the lap around the cemetery. Her idle speculation had made no progress solving it, of course, but it provided her with a mental image of a ghost repeatedly pretending to die before yet again climbing out of their shallow grave. So that was something.
Jasper and Solstice were already on their feet by the time she'd gotten back. The deft strands of fur on Jasper's arm made for a comfy, if very makeshift, bed for Joy and Comet to sleep in, while Twinkle got to experience being tied to a different shoulder for a change. If they'd been awake, they'd be delighted by the adventurous experience. Or afraid. Probably just afraid. Sue was just glad she got to hold Solstice's hand again, embarrassing as that would've been to admit out loud.
"Enjoyed the sights?" Jasper giggled, both at his own joke and at the look that followed from Solstice.
Sue smiled. "Why wouldn't I, with all this beautiful calligraphy I can't read?"
"Yep, you most definitely cannot read it," Solstice flatly commented, and tilted her head towards the cemetery's entrance. And then she elaborated, feeling her daughter's confusion. "Root's handwriting is..."
"As beautiful and thoughtful as the rest of him, truly!" Jasper gesticulated.
Solstice nodded. "More or less."
"Why doesn't someone else do it then?" Sue asked, speeding up to catch up with the other two.
"Everyone's content to just let him do it. It's a rather thankless task, especially with how often you have to repaint them, heh."
So these looked like that while getting repaints. Oh.
"Yep," Solstice held in a chuckle. "We could stand to pick up some of the slack, even if just to make sure they're all still legible in ten Moons."
That's one mystery solved. "No kidding, yeah. There was an entire row that looked like it had the same thing written on it, yeah."
"Oh, that's because it does!" Jasper kindly explained.
That's one mystery un-solved. "W-wait, what?" Sue paused, even more confused. "What's it say, then?"
With the treeline closer to them all than at the cemetery, it was much harder to make out any detail of their surroundings. Even Solstice's white skin dress was barely brighter than the brown dirt beneath them, which itself was only a couple of tones away from the utter darkness to their sides. At least the stars guided the way from above, so many more of them than Sue thought was possible for there to be. Thousands? Tens of thousands? Millions? It gave her chills.
Which Jasper's answer then redoubled. "Oh, they all say 'unknown.' Sometimes you just have people that wind up dead nearby—unlucky travellers, migratory birds, et cetera. If it's any of the kin that live nearby, we let them sort out their own dead with whatever rites they perform, but if it's someone from far away, then we give them a place to rest. E-even if we can't give them an actual name for the afterlife..."
"Alas," Solstice solemnly confirmed. "We've had more than our share of unfortunate travellers those past few years."
The spot of pitch-darkness that corresponded to Jasper's eyebrows perked up at the remark. "Oh? M-more than there used to be?"
"Quite a bit more, yes. We figured that we're near some kind of pilgrimage route. Must have quite a reach; most of the kin buried there we've only seen once, when we were covering them with dirt. There was even one with," Solstice began, before cutting herself off and tweaking her wording, "quite detailed clothing, but nothing like what you've told me about, Sue. Bipedal, cloven, rounded horns. What a sad way to go—Sue?"
The shock of realization radiating off her frozen daughter made Solstice stop and look over her shoulder. They locked their dimly glowing eyes; the latter waiting for the former to say something.
And the former was freaking the fuck out. 'Travellers' of species that weren't local to the area, which nobody here had ever seen, turning up more often in the past few years? Enough of them ending up dead to where Moonview's cemetery needed to give them their own dedicated row? This all sounded similar enough that the only question in Sue's head was whether she would've ended up in that row as well if that spider had done her in.
She'd never know, though, because she did survive. And if she had, even if it had been just a stroke of luck, then that means that there must've been others that survived as well. Sue blinked the shock out of her eyes and tried to keep her voice as calm as possible, with limited success. "I-I'm curious now, did any of them survive? As in, did you find anyone looking out of place nearby, k-kinda like those dead people?"
The sheer torrent of anxious thoughts spilling out of Sue's head wasn't needed for Solstice to connect the dots, but it certainly expedited the process. She gave her daughter a knowing, concerned look, and mentally rifled through anyone who could fit the bill. Which wasn't as straightforward as either of them wished. "^It's difficult to say with certainty, given how many newcomers to Moonview have come from far away and thus look 'out of place' in much the same way.^"
"I can't say I'm understanding what you're trying to get at, Sue," Jasper quizzically commented. "It sounds like you think there was something different about those dead travellers."
Sue bit her tongue to avoid mouthing out a swear at being seen though yet again. Jasper didn't seem to have connected that to her, which helped her hold on to her composure, however feeble her grip now was. No way through but to confirm his hunch. "I-I have my reasons to think that's the case, J-Jasper. And that they didn't end up here because of just travelling through the land."
No matter how hard her eyes strained, they couldn't pick up Jasper's movements with any certainty against the nighttime forest. Her ears could, though, and her hair stood on edge as the night kin slowed to walk beside her. "What do you think happened to them?" he whispered. To Sue's relief, she didn't fear any agitation in his voice, but she doubted if wide-eyed curiosity was much better.
Just gotta keep my cards close and he'll think I'm just being stupid and won't suspect a thing.
"I wish I knew. Though, with what Solstice had said about them not being local, maybe they'd been... b-brought here by someone else? Or something else?" She wasn't sure which word would've hinted at the possibility of divine involvement less, but with their powers combined, they surely had to have—
"As in, a deity?" Jasper suggested.
Fuck.
The quiet, scratchy sound of him stroking his chin was covered up by Sue's heart hammering in her ears. "P-p-possibly!"
The thuds of Sue's stick against the packed dirt grew more and more irregular as she tried to keep walking—and looking—perfectly straight ahead, not letting Jasper glean anything from her expression in case he could see in the dark better than her. Said action was entirely unnecessary on account of her obvious agitation at the mere mention of a deity, but a part of her still thought she could 'play stupid' her way out of this one.
Solstice gave her a look right down the middle between amusement and concern. However outsized her worries had been, they clearly affected her, and the last thing she wanted to do was to force her daughter to confess to things she wasn't ready to talk about yet. Instead, a rhetorical swerve was in order. "^Now that you said that Sue, I think there are a few newcomers that would fit the bill. And you even already know one of them~^"
The fraying threads comprising Sue's brain coalesced together into a single, focused point at Solstice's words. She glanced over her shoulder, looking her adoptive mother straight in the eye, and whispered, "Who?" She needed to know, in body and mind, and the time slowed down to a crawl as she awaited the answer.
For about half a second. "^Lilly! From what I remember of it, her recollection seems to fit what you've described.^"
The mention of her crush brought a fleeting blush to Sue's cheeks before focused thought had returned. She'd noticed the similarities between Lilly's circumstances and her own, but the revelation that the wonderfully curvy dancer wasn't originally human discouraged her from pursuing them further. Even now, she was uncertain how much overlap there really was beyond Lilly not remembering actually getting to Moonview with her sister, but it was the best lead she was going to get. She had to revisit the topic, ask both of them what she remembered without revealing her hand, and see if anything else was a match for her situation. Easier said than done, with her not having any idea about either the motives or the identity of the perpetrator.
"Hard to imagine her to have earned herself that kind of divine retribution," Jasper chuckled. "Seemed as sweet as all get out."
You have no idea.
"N-not disagreeing, no. Would it have to have been retribution, though?" Sue pried with the grace of a steamroller.
"Truth be told, it's hard to think of a motive for kidnapping for any deity I can think of. Retribution is the most obvious answer, but there are so many more direct ways of administering it than tossing them here of all places. If They had really wanted someone dead, not even bone dust would be left of them."
Thanks for the reassuring picture.
Jasper's furred fingers rubbed against one another. "But no, you're right, Sue, They must've had to have bought those people here for a reason. But anything They might've wanted They would've been able to fulfill much more effectively by Themselves. All I can think of is the inconspicuity of getting a mortal to fulfill Their wishes without cluing off the rest of the heavens."
Considering how quickly half the pantheon had their eyes set upon her, if that had really been the culprit's motivation, They'd failed spectacularly. Which made Sue doubt that possibility, along with her only getting clued off about her alleged purpose here a few days in—but then again, she too wasn't able to think of anything else that could explain it.
"^Maybe They were bored. Or lazy,^" Solstice added. Her tone was jovial, but any of the intended amusement soured quickly after it'd come into contact with Sue's head. She wanted to chuckle, to find the idea as funny as the older Forest Guardian had, but... she couldn't. She felt a knot build up inside her chest and tried to idly nod through it, but it accomplished nothing. The idea lingered in her head, refusing to be laughed off, refusing to be discarded. The dream conveying the ill-defined mission of bringing the two lunar deities back together shielded her psyche from the enormity of the implications of Solstice's words, but she could still see them: a kraken passing right past her tattered dinghy.
Because the only thing scarier than being made to die for something would've been to be made to die for nothing.
A warm, gentle touch on her shoulder snapped Sue out of that mental image. She didn't stop herself from jumping at the sensation, but she consciously overruled the reflex to shake it off. After all, it was the same touch that was still holding her hand, reminding her of its presence every time Solstice's thumb stroked her fingers. She leaned towards that warmth ever so slightly, closed her eyes, and waited for it to thaw her unnerved mind.
And somehow, it did. Dread dripped from the back of her head, lightening Sue's mind drop after drop. The warmth didn't make it all any less scary, but it provided a... not reason, no, but a consolation prize, in a sense. Even if that worst-case scenario were true and she'd been torn out of her life for nothing, she had people here that cared about her now. Not as a part of an abortion of a divine plan, but because of her, because of what she's done. And even despite its jagged, uneven edges, the thought made her feel better.
Especially when paired with Solstice's supportive, proud look.
"Laziness is a possibility," Jasper finally continued, "though a rather unsatisfying one. Suppose it cannot be eliminated, but—"
"^I think it's best we move on to a different topic, Jasper.^"
Sue heard the shuffle of Jasper's fur moving against itself, followed by a barely audible inhale, and finally, accelerating steps as he took the lead of the group again. "Right. Apologies for digging into a sensitive matter, Sue."
The words made her flinch a little. "No, no, it's not your fault, Jasper," she insisted. "Though I won't d-disagree with changing the subject, yeah." To her relief, there even happened to be just the right thing to ask about for clarification, since she hadn't gotten to do so earlier. "That marking ritual. I remember you mentioning something about how it doesn't hurt."
Solstice's glowing eyes nodded firmly in Sue's peripheral vision. "^That's true. You have to drink a special concoction beforehand, it numbs your body and lets you commune with the Pale Lady.^" That much Sue broadly remembered, but the explanation didn't include them getting their hands on said drink. Or the actual marking implements. Hopefully, it wouldn't be a school project situation where they'd have to rush everything on the day of...
...
Can't believe this of all things made her laugh.
Embarrassing as it was for her adoptive mother to overhear a thought this dumb, the cackling giggle it elicited washed away the building shame tenfold. She pulled Sue closer, pressed her head against Sue's, tried to speak, and fell into yet another laughing fit instead.
"Is everything alright, S-Solstice?" Jasper cautiously asked. His own amusement was thinly veiled, both at getting to hear his ex-wife's infectious laughter again and at the general absurdity of the situation, but it was subdued by the possibility of it having been sparked by something unpleasant.
"^Yes, yes of course!^" she giggled, before attempting to banish the sounds leaving her mouth with a few deep breaths. And then a second one, after the first one had failed. And then a third. Before long, though, she was calm enough to talk again, her head still resting on Sue's messy, discoloured, adorable hair. "^Oooh. I can't, I can't remember the last time I'd laughed this hard, haha. Thank you, Sue. But just to be clear—no, we will not need to rush anything. I've made sure to gather everything required for Aurora's ritual when she was still a Moon Child, and after her passing, I'd kept it under my bedding. First for Comet, and now for you.^"
Sue couldn't remember seeing anything of the sort, but had no reason to doubt Solstice's confidence. Her knowledge about the shelf life of natural ingredients was a different matter, though. "Will it still be okay to use after a few years? A-as in, won't any of it spoil?"
"^Considering the materials for my own markings were also gathered when I was just a hatchling, no, I don't think it will~^"
Sue wasn't sure whether the tone was meant to be teasing or just confident reassurance, but both made her feel nice. "R-right, thank you. When were you thinking about doing it?" she asked, before remembering there was one time of the month the associated goddess liked the most. "The next full Moon?"
The enthusiasm left Solstice's body with a drawn-out exhale, replaced by a creeping doubt. "^That's when it should be done, but... I have different plans.^"
Jasper's quiet "what" summed up Sue's thoughts on the answer. She could sense Solstice's internal conflict on that matter and had no idea what she could even meaningfully contribute to it. Pressing her head into her adoptive mother's made them both feel better, but it was fleeting relief.
And Solstice didn't need it, just like her faith no longer needed the trite symbol of the full Moon. "^Is Her visage any less beautiful as a crescent than as a splendid shield? Is She any less loving? She's watching over us even now, when we can barely see Her, and I see no point in waiting for Her brief stay as the Moon's solitary face. Solanum may have with me, claiming that anything less than Her at her grandest would invite the Dark Father to 'taint' and corrupt our blessings. Why would He? Why should we deny Him the chance to watch for Himself, to extend His Aegis to you much like the Night Mother extends Her Grace?^"
Sue listened in silence, far too unfamiliar with the faith for the words to mean much to her. That wasn't the case for Jasper, though, and the more Solstice explained, the more her daughter could've sworn she heard sniffling coming from the beast of a night kin. Whether they were tears of awe, relief, or joy, she couldn't tell. Nor did she need to.
"^All that is to say,^" the Mayor shifted her attention back to Sue, "^that any time works, really. We could do it as soon as tomorrow, if that's what you'd prefer, sweetie.^"
The pet name flustered Sue yet again, as did the thrust of her mom's words. Tomorrow felt absurdly hasty for such a decision, but even as Sue tried to come up with a reasonable counter-argument for it, she failed. She wanted it so much, and of the few things she was absolutely certain of in this wild world, her desire to grow closer to Solstice, Lilly, and her kids was by far the brightest one. Would reservation make anything better, when she had no idea how much time she had left in this world in the first place?
For once, she didn't wanna be cautious. "I think I'd really like that," Sue whispered. "Tomorrow, I mean—" she attempted to elaborate, before the hair ruffle enveloping her head replaced the words with an indistinct whimper of pleasure. And somehow, even that didn't feel as nice as Solstice's presence right beside her.
"^Tomorrow it is, then!^" Solstice cried out, words dripping with so much pride that the blush on Sue's face had to spread to her neck and torso.
"Yeah! Yeah..." Sue exclaimed, as if trying to still convince herself. The excitement gave way to a few breathy chuckles, then to deep breaths, and finally, just a warm, persistent smile clinging to her face while the group quietened around her.
Oh my Duck, it's really gonna happen, isn't it?
The forest ambience began to thin out, and Sue could've sworn she saw a faint purple glow above the tree line ahead of them.
If Solstice is happy, and she thinks Duck is gonna be happy as well, then no reason it can't happen, right?
Silence deepened, and Sue's heartbeat took over more and more of her senses.
But if that's the case, then why does something still feel wrong?
The hair on the back of Sue's neck stood on end, and her eyes darted around. What in search of, she had no idea, but there had to have been something, right? Something in the shadows, someone, creeping closer, wanting to hurt her, wanting to hurt her family–
Like Nightbane. Like Solanum.
"^Sue, sweetie?^" Solstice whispered, but her words went unheard.
Her daughter's flailing mind finally had faces to put to her outburst of fear, which only emboldened them. Their expressions, their amusement at her expense, their thoughtless cruelty, were forcing themselves upon Sue's imagination. Her adoptive mom was right here, her children were being safely carried, and yet all Sue could think about was the sensation of being horribly, effortlessly overpowered and forced onto the dirt.
Even with the past pain muffled into an indistinct pressure, Sue still had no words. Anger, feeling violated, and more than anything else, fear. Powerlessness. They just toyed with her, so utterly overwhelmed her she could barely think, and there was nothing she could've done to stop either of them. If not for Solstice, if not for Daystar, they, they—
"Sue?" her mom asked aloud, cupping her cheek. The touch finally interrupted Sue's flashback, yanking her back to the dark forest path, surrounded by those she cared about. And then, shortly after, once more into Solstice's arms, the contents of Sue's panicking thoughts hardly a mystery to her.The Mayor's embrace was firm, warm, trying its best to only provide reassurance. Despite all that, though, Sue's sixth sense still clued her off to the feelings boiling underneath, unable to be suppressed entirely.
"I-I'm here, I'm..." Sue stammered out. "J-just thought b-back to them, Solanum a-and Nightbane and..."
Solstice pressed Sue's head into her shoulder, the touch making everything that much more manageable. Her steady breathing hastened, and the anger began to leak out of her body, perceptible to Sue's sixth sense. It looked like breath freezing in air.
"Next time," Solstice muttered bitterly, "next time they try something like that, I'm not letting them get away. I'm chasing them down, and I'm going to..." The apprehension cut her words short. Only for a second, though—because as much as the Mayor felt she should've doubted what she was about to say, her heart couldn't find any opposition to it. "I'm going to kill them," she whispered, her tone eerily relieved.
That emotion didn't last long either, not once her attention shifted back to the recipient of her comfort. Her wrath drained, replaced by comforting warmth, incomparably more pleasant to the touch. "I'm, I'm sorry. Got carried way away..."
Despite how out-of-pocket Solstice's exclamation was, Sue didn't really mind. To an extent, it was appreciated even; that promise these monsters wouldn't get away if they'd tried anything again. Still, it wasn't quite what she needed right now. "It's alright. W-we should probably just get going..."
Especially with the earlier thoughts still writhing in her head. No longer accompanied by paralyzing flashbacks, but still relevant. Dour, unnerving, overdue. Today has been the second time she'd been hopelessly overpowered without even trying, a second time she'd been utterly helpless to protect herself or her loved ones. She'd been saved both times, and she appreciated that more than words could convey, but it was not enough, nowhere near enough. How many times must something like that happen until nobody would be around to rescue her anymore? How many times would her children have to be assaulted for one of those incidents to go further?
She couldn't protect them at all right now, couldn't even protect herself.
I have to get stronger.
How exactly, Sue had no idea. Training with Solstice was the obvious answer, but with their lessons being so far limited to just the basics of communication, she doubted that her mentor would be willing to dive into self-defense off the bat. Sundance was more likely to help, but her injuries made it unclear if she'd have the strength to train her in something much more demanding than telepathy.Though, frankly, Sue didn't care—it wasn't just a nice-to-have anymore; she had to get stronger, had to be able to protect her loved ones. She could not, would not let something like that happen to them again.
Or at least, that's what her spiraling head insisted to itself before its train of thought was interrupted by a stinging sensation coming from the tip of her horn. She'd gotten good enough at muting the intermittent aching that she wasn't even consciously thinking about it anymore, but the injury was still there, flaring up as they approached the large, busy plaza. Still there, still annoying. In need of a bandage change, too, but that could come later.
They were finally back.
The clearing was busy, almost as full as during the feast a few days ago. Sue wasn't sure if that was because of any event in particular, or if that was just how it always got during the evening. If anything, her experience indicated the latter. It was overstimulating, but she didn't mind that much—she just had to get past the crowds, be they sloshed, rowdy, or both, and the path to Solstice's tent would be clear.
Which raised a question she was embarrassed she hadn't thought about earlier. "Jasper?" Sue spoke up, her dry voice barely piercing through the din of the crowd. "Where are you gonna sleep tonight? D-do you need us to find you a spot here, or...?"
The words derailed the night kin's train of thought, if his relaxing expression was any sign. His eyes jumped to her, then to the buildings in the distance, then flinched for a split second, and finally returned to her. "Ah, I... I-I suppose I'll head back to Newmoon in a moment," he answered, disappointed.
Sue felt awkward for asking; Solstice felt even more awkward for not thinking about that earlier. The former had no idea how she could help, but the latter did, and her sweeping eyes soon caught a few candidates. "^Maybe you could ask Patina if she has some space in her workshop? Don't doubt Granite would be happy to have you over as well.^"
Disappointment lingered on Jasper's expression for a split-second longer before fading to understanding. And then, finally, to thought. He joined his ex in scanning through the area, looking for more candidates besides the couple of good ones already pointed out—before stopping. Every single hair on his body reeled in unison, and then he muttered out, "O-oh yes, I think I see someone over there—here let's go ask them real quick!"
The younger Forest Guardian was too preoccupied by Jasper's awkward retreat that she hadn't even noticed who had set it in motion. At least, not until their paw shook her free forearm, its touch tingly, magical. Its associated mind somber, tipsy. Familiar.
Willow's blue eyes were as striking as always, though they were more unfocused than usual. They shifted their weight from side to side, as if maintaining their balance had turned into an active struggle they were only barely managing. Their mumbles bounced off Sue's ears, untranslated, but that was the one issue with them having shown up that she could do something about. Most of her body really didn't want to, but after the aching leg pulled a gun on the rest of her limbs, she was forced to acquiesce.
Go forth, my psychic brain magic, reach into this person's skull cap and share their thoughts with me; let us communicate with the clarity we both desire! So sayeth I, Sue Mary Mullins!
...
I can't remember the last time I thought about my middle name. It's starting to sound weird.
Once she'd shaken off the distracting brainworm, establishing communication went ahead smoothly. Willow's intoxication was palpable in their thoughts, making their words more difficult to follow than she'd expected. Some of them felt like vertigo.
Others, just like slurred greetings. "Hear now? Evening good, Sue. How feel?" they squeaked out, putting on a half-strained smile.
"Fine enough," she avoided lying by technicality. "Something the matter?" The suspicion in her voice was clear, though unnecessary with how much the rest of her body was ready to leap away and be anywhere but here.
"Saw stick I. Hurt leg again?" The tension wasn't lost on them, but as far as Sue could tell, their concern was genuine.
It never stopped aching, really. You just yanked the crutch before I was done with it.
Right as Sue was about to clothe the thought in more polite language, she decided against it. She was exhausted, mentally spent, and doubtful of how much Willow deserved the civility. And so, she repeated it verbatim, keeping track of the medic's expression.
And once more, didn't expect it to be genuinely apologetic. "Good Lady, apologies I. Not realize..." they pressed a paw into their forehead. Thoughts drunk drove through their mind palace, not even thinking about letting their feet off the gas pedal, though their maw valiantly stopped them from muttering the inappropriate ones out loud. Including the one that internally groaned about Sue not having mentioned anything at the time.
I suppose I can appreciate the restraint.
"Fault I, fault I. Busy your crutch, have better cane this," they pointed at the piece of detritus in Sue's hand. "Tomorrow bring I. New bandages together," they added, failing to subdue a grimace after checking up on Sue's horn and leg. "Good that?"
For once, it was. "I'd appreciate that, Willow." Her voice was still tense, though the expression of genuine care had softened it somewhat. Guess despite everything, they still cared about her and others in Moonview, and that much she could at least respect—
"At... Solstice's tent, sleep J-Jasper?" they stammered, choke slamming whatever respect Sue might've been regaining for them on the floor.
"And what does that matter!?" Sue growled back, catching herself aback at the volume of her own words. She felt blood rushing through her head, a desire to say something even more antagonistic, but barely kept it in check.
Willow took a couple of steps back, raising their paws apologetically, but before they could mumble out an excuse, another voice cut them off. The cottonball to which it belonged had hovered behind the medic, startling them. The dried leaves hanging from their body matched their rustling voice, but it was of little use untranslated.
Aren't they one of the other elders? Think I saw them back at the farm too.
While Sue fixed that, Willow tried defending themself. "Not imply that I, Equinox! S-space for asked I, enough supplies asked I."
"Not enough, what if?" the cottonball pressed on. He sounded even older with the translation, but no matter how rusty his voice was, it could still hold a point. "What if, Willow of Moonfolk?"
Sue'd seen the medic unnerved plenty of times before, but this had to be the first time she'd seen them be afraid. Their eyes scurried off to the side, seeking an out, but the looming presence of a beach ball-sized elder kept them pinned in place.
Wonder if you could throw him like a volleyball.
"Heal as needed will I," Willow insisted, "but—"
"All lives saved, one life saved is. Lesson above all, sworn, you. Six hundred and twenty one Moons ago, sworn that, you," Equinox gravely reminded, any amusement at the situation gone from his voice. "Happy would be, forefathers you, hearing excuses your, they?"
"But they—"
"But not you. Answer you, last Moonfolk Willow."
Sue was enthralled enough by the spat between what had to be the oldest people in Moonview to not notice someone having spotted her in the distance. With the sheer amount of attention they'd placed upon her, that situation quickly changed, however—but it was far too late already.
Lilly was approaching with the speed of a bullet train, and Sue was little more than a sedan stuck on the tracks before her.
She was scooped up so fast she almost blacked out from the sheer inertia before the dancer spun in place, taking her girlfriend through an accelerated NASA course's worth of G-force. Once Sue could tell up from down again and had regained sixty percent certainty that she wouldn't throw up there and then, she extended a mental link to the planty girl, the previous two ripped off like extension cords plugged into a dragster.
Her horn ached, but the red-hot adoration it shone with made the sensation much more palatable. Pleasant, even. The severe inebriation said adoration was wrapped in she could leave or take, though.
"Hey Lilly," Sue whimpered, before pausing to calm the bile creeping up her throat.
To the dancer's credit, she noticed her girlfriend's overstimulated state, mentally kicking herself for not asking first. "Aaaaaaa," she half-whined, half-whistled, "Sorry I! Ask should had I..."
Even if Sue had been mad, hearing Lilly be so sorry would've forcibly vacated that feeling out of her system. "Shh, all's good, Lilly! Just need a moment," she reassured. She wanted to take the plant girl's hand to comfort her, but with both of them occupied, Lilly's cheek had to do. Over the next few seconds, it turned the color of her eyes, and a few seconds after that, much the same was true of Sue's cheeks too.
Shoulder would've been a better spot but, uh, uh, uh,
"F-future ask I," Lilly mumbled out, squirming on the spot with Sue still in her arms.
"I'd appreciate that, yes," Sue giggled. And then, she cut in once she felt herself being lowered onto the floor, "but now is good! D-don't have to let me down now, Lilly! I-I-I—" she squirmed, subconsciously wrapping an arm around Lilly's shoulders for stability, "I'm liking it right now! L-liking it a lot, even!"
The high-pitched squeal that left the buzzed girl in response made Sue's heart melt and her ears tingle. The last thing she expected to see was Lilly being even more direct than usual, but her heart—along with certain other body parts—appreciated it greatly. And now, being held in her arms with one hand still on her cheek, her thoughts began to wander. So did her eyes, for that matter, but even in her embarrassment they couldn't help but focus on Lilly's before long.
More specifically, on the spot between her eyes, but the intent was the same.
"Care for a..." Sue trailed off and puckered her lips.
Lilly responded with approximately forty smooches all over Sue's cheeks, lips, and forehead in a span of seventeen seconds.
I think I love her.
"Always, always, always," Lilly whispered afterwards, her voice dreamily drunk.
For how much Sue was enjoying the situation to an embarrassing degree, her sixth sense reminded her they were making a scene. The audience reception was warm, of course, but she really, really did not care for an audience right now. And that's beside the more immediate concern of the other adults having gone somewhere, Sue's kids in tow. "M-me too. Um, do you see Solstice or Jasper anywhere? They might have gone to Solstice's tent—"
Not another word was needed. That's not to say it wasn't said, because Lilly's enthusiastic pace was a bit too high for Sue's inner ear, but it was the understanding that counted.
And once they were out of the public eye, Sue didn't waste the opportunity to return Lilly's salvo from earlier, if much more clumsily. She wasn't in a position to extend her kisses to the flower on the girl's head, though, and had to settle on brushing her fingers along its petals.
Before Sue could think through every single sensation that went through her crush in response to the said action, she was distracted by their having reached their destination. She sensed the familiar presences of Joy, Twinkle, and Solstice through the canvas, the latter still awake. Awake, and increasingly amused.
"Th-thanks a lot, Lilly," Sue whispered. She gathered her bearings after being lowered onto the grass, leaning on the unflinching dancer all the while. Two thoughts wrestled in her head for dominance: one fueled by propriety, and the other by decidedly inappropriate feelings. Before she could decide which one to bless with her words,
Lilly made it for her. "Want... together, bed, you?" she whispered, somehow even more embarrassed than Sue.
The Forest Guardian's head was nodding at full force before the brain encased in it even had the time to second-guess itself.
The dancer avoided squealing out loud, instead channeling the bliss into squeezing the love, breath, and almost the daylights out of her girlfriend. Sue's heart hammered at realizing how excited Lilly was at that prospect, and if the plant girl's mind was any sign, her heart would've hammered just as hard. If she had one. And had blood. And wasn't a plant.
I really hope I'll never get to find out whether Lilly can bleed.
"Thank, thank, thank..." Lilly whispered, cutting herself off with a yawn.
"I should be the one thanking you," Sue giggled.
The words sobered the planty dancer up somewhat. "Why?" She tilted her head.
Sue's embarrassment tried not to look at her, but her body still clung closer. "B-b-because I wanted to ask you the same thing. J-just wasn't sure if it'd be... y-y'know, appropriate."
"Why not?" Lilly whispered into her cheek, the tips of her arms playing with Sue's hair. It felt illegally nice.
There was a whole slew of contributing factors to that claim, almost none of which applied in this different society. That's not to say they made much sense back on Earth in the first place, but it removed any lingering legitimacy they might've had. "I-I didn't want to come on too strongly, y'know. Can imagine that'd b-be offputting. Especially for sleeping together."
Before Sue's mind could mutter any more self-defeating wet blanket-isms, her head was gently grabbed and forcibly turned to look Lilly right in the eyes. The plant girl's expression was determined, her mind was steeled, and her imagination was rapidly filling with imagery Sue was too self-conscious to even fantasize about. "Sue. Want, I, —"
"^You girls are gonna come in or not?^" Solstice's mental voice interrupted, combusting Lilly's fantasies into red-hot fluster. Still, the thrust of what she was about to say was understood. In all the gratuitous detail, no less.
"Sorry!" Lilly answered. She then kissed Sue on the cheek one more time, took her hand, and walked into the tent.
Sue was very, very glad it was too dark to see Solstice's expression right now. "^Have any idea how you two are gonna sleep tonight? Bit late to rearrange anything, though I suppose I could move the beds together for the future.^" The implication that her mom was expecting Lilly to come over regularly going forward wasn't missed on Sue, nowhere close.
"Hmmm. Yes, I!" the dancer exclaimed. She barely made out the outline of the nearest bed, approached it—
"Watch out for the kids, Lilly."
—and carefully lifted the sleeping pair into her arms, before resting her curvy body on the bedding. Sue's sixth sense filled in the spots that her eyes couldn't squint hard enough to make out, finding Joy lying next to Lilly's shoulder, with Twinkle in between them. The plant girl wordlessly guided Sue to her own spot afterwards. Or rather, to the position she had to squirm herself into so that her head rested on Lilly's chest, her left arm served as a pillow for her crush and daughter alike, and her legs were quantum mechanically entangled with Lilly's in a non-deterministic state.
If my butt wasn't as flat as my chest, it'd be sliding off the edge of the bed.
It was certainly one of the positions Sue had ever slept in, and while she couldn't guarantee that she wouldn't wake up in the same position—or with none of her limbs numb—it was good enough for now. Especially since it left her with a free hand, its affections shifting between Twinkle, Joy, and Lilly. The four most important people in her life right now, all in one room. Three of them in embracing distance, and one trying desperately not to 'aww' out loud at everything she and her crush were doing.
Being able to press into another person's warmth felt better than Sue could've imagined.
"^Good night, you two~ May She keep your rest peaceful.^"
"Night night night..." Lilly mumbled.
Sue smiled into Lilly's chest. "Sleep well. I love you all."
Lilly smiled, too.
♪A E♭ F♭ G A E♭ F♭ A E♭ F♭ A E♭ B♭—♪
The dreamt-up guitar's notes were bold, forceful, echoing through the unreality she found herself in yet again. Sue's hands still didn't know how to play the real instrument, but right now, before she'd be forced to open her eyes and face the dream once more, they strummed the guitar with all the fervor she could manage. Warm affection, determination, dread, and fledging confidence combined to deliver her most spirited performance yet.
And the audience loved it.
To her left, Joy and Twinkle, rocking in tune with their mom's overstrummed notes, cheering her on.
To her right—
Lilly.
The sight of her crush instead of the shapeless black mass that was present there before froze Sue in her tracks. She was whistling to the tune, even after her girlfriend had stopped playing, and looked at her in adoration. Sue wasn't sure what to make of her presence here, and was even less certain of whether she should be worried, but... she couldn't deny it made her feel nice. To have her here. To have her crush reciprocated.
Hardly just a crush at that point, is it?
And with that, all three illusions around her faded away, leaving her alone with the guitar. Cheap wood and cheaper varnish, out of tune and overflowing with wood glue and childlike stickers alike. Once thought broken, still playing on. Her mom's.
Hers.
Sue didn't know what amount of reverence was appropriate for an imaginary instrument, but she was sure feeling it alright. Tears forced their way out of her eyes as she held the guitar tight, thanking it for its persistent presence, before it was moved off to the side, forcing her to confront the rest of this repetitive fantasy.
...
She wasn't quite alone, though.
It was hard to make out through the roaring flames of the fireplace, but she could swear there was someone in there with her, at the exact opposite end of the clearing. Was it Aurora? Was it Solstice? Sue didn't know, but for once, the thought didn't fill her with the kind of freezing fear it used to. She wasn't particularly keen to find out either way, but was at least glad that their presence wasn't turning her dream into another nightmare.
And with them noticed, there was only one direction left for her eyes to venture—up.
A billion stars greeted her, each a jewel woven into a pillow upon which rested the grandest gem of all: a full Moon.
Don't remember it ever being this pretty, though—
"Greetings, Daughter of the Transverse World."
It was the first time Sue had understood that voice, and yet she knew immediately who it belonged to. It was pleasant, sure, but after her previous interactions with that particular deity, she couldn't help but be apprehensive about having to talk to Her again. "Hello... Night Mother."
For all her past humor at the expense of the lunar deity's appearance, She really was quite stunning from up close. Not any less waterfowl-shaped, but each of the crescents comprising Her wings shone like an aurora borealis, bathing Her radiant self in a faint pastel glow. Her head shone like the crescent Moon, and her eyes, keen as they were, radiated genuine care. Maybe Sue had misjudged Her in the past.
"We're most Exultant to make Your acquaintance, at Last."
Maybe not, judging by that royal 'we.' "I'm glad I can finally talk to you properly. I'm guessing you learned my language the same way the Night Father did?"
"Indubitably. We Lament our mistreatment of—"
For a split-second, Her body twitched, and Sue saw only Solanum in Her eyes. And then, one blink later, She was back to normal.
"—of Ye, in the Duration of our antecedent Assemblage. We direct'st our Penitence, and our Gratefulness, at Ye."
It was hard to take Her apologies seriously with Her word choices, and without her sixth sense Sue had no idea whether She had actually meant it, but what use would be holding onto that grudge, anyway? She'd much rather have whatever information the deity could provide her. "You're fine. I'm glad that's past us now, I guess."
"We are most Jubilant of that, also. We hadst pondered Plenty on Your Circumstance in our absence. We affirm we Know whom'st Afflicted this Fate upon—"
"Wait!" Sue cried out, gesturing for the Night Mother to stop. Her divine body twitched again, as if having difficulty comprehending anyone daring to interrupt Her, but She remained silent afterwards. "Before you say anything, I've been talking to the Night Father about this. He also figured out who it was, and that whoever it is makes me wake up when I hear Their name. I-I don't know why, but They just do. If you have something about Them, don't say Their name out loud."
The Pale Lady leaned back, her wings shining turquoise.
"Why that... indubitably. We shall heed Your Recommendation. What'st Ye know about It, then?"
"To be honest? Jack shit," Sue muttered, snickering at her own crass language. "Ideally all I'd need to know about Them is how They look like so I can break their fucking neck, *sigh.* In absence of that, I'll take all you have."
Did She go even paler?
"Inadvisably... forceful tone, taking into Account Its might."
Sue gulped. "A-are They strong?"
"Mightier than We, Mightier Still than Us Together. Force All but utmost Indomitable quaver at."
'Us together' turned Sue's head into a spinning loading icon before the internal request to query who it was referring to timed out. Either way, she was dealing with some kind of big name around here, which soothed exactly zero of her fears.
And stoked a few questions in return. "So They're powerful, right? Why would They need me of all people to do Their dirty work?"
The Pale Lady hovered closer to the ground, Her eyes closing in quiet contemplation. As She thought, Sue saw a wrathful snarl pierce itself through Her calm expression more than once, but each time it only lasted until she blinked. She wasn't liking this at all, but it's not like she had anywhere to run.
"We know not the Answer. Our Surmisal, however, is That of Sloth."
...
"So, They were too lazy to do the job Themselves, and brought me here to do it instead?" Sue apprehensively muttered out. Solstice had suggested that earlier tonight, and the idea wasn't any less awful the second time. In fact, it was so awful it wrapped around to being hilarious, and the moment she'd forced the last word out, she had to fight her dreamt-up body not to laugh.
"In Accord with Its Demeanor, forsooth. Its Impetus, however, remains Unascertained."
The joke stopped being funny after being confirmed, no longer letting Sue shield herself from that awful hypothetical with humor. Still, it was just some deity's hunch, and a much more interesting topic presented itself—one that Sue had the information advantage on. She internally debated whether to share what she'd seen with the Pale Lady, but figured that she could do that now with the night kin being allowed in Moonview again.
As long as She won't turn all racist on them again, at least.
"Okay. I may have the answer to that, I guess. I had a dream a few days back about how if I brought You and the Night Father back together, then I'd be allowed to go back to my world. I don't think I even want to go back anymore, but—"
"What."
Sue and her mom's deity stared at each other for a few silent, overlong moments. The latter's face grimaced as if She was only barely holding in slurs.
"That'st the totality of Your Call?"
"I-I mean, as far as I understand it, yeah."
The Night Mother straightened Herself back out; Her eyes stared at nothing.
"Indeed. Indeed. Indeed. Why'dst We speculate It was Anything but, We abjure Contemplation on."
For Her pompous tone, the Pale Lady's resignation was strangely familiar. "Why, is that something They've been pushing for a while?" Sue guessed. "Trying to bring You and Him back together?"
"Forsooth."
...
This can't be it, can it? Nah, there has to be something more. No way they'd just reveal all their plans to me in that dream in the first place if all they wanted was to bring Duck and—
"HALT."
All of Her earlier grace had sublimated into a mighty, imposing presence, leaving nothing but power and authority.
"THAT UTTERANCE."
Oh no.
"'D-d-duck?'" Sue guessed. "Wh-what about—"
"WE. HATH HARKENED. THAT UTTERANCE. EVERY. SINGULAR. OCCURRENCE."
Sue was quite certain she'd rather be getting waterboarded right now. "D-d-do you want me t-to stop?"
The radiant goddess of the full Moon's might roared into the sky, gathered Her breath, and lowered herself back to the ground, deflated. Her sigh sounded like if glitter was loud.
"Dost it matter now, much?"
Every single part of Sue's mind had to control itself from flatly answering, 'you tell me.' She managed, partly because of her superhuman willpower, and partly because there were more interesting things to talk about, still. She closed her eyes, steadied her breathing, and continued the point she had wanted to make. "A-anyway. Do you think there might be anything more to—hello?"
Sue looked around, and the Pale Lady was gone. She looked up, and the Moon was gone too. She looked back down, and the fire was out, and whoever had been sitting on the opposite side of the clearing had disappeared. It was cold, very cold. Something pitch-black was roiling at the edges of her dream, closing in fast. She felt it splash against her feet.
She blinked, and Nightbane was there before her, flames and fury in his eyes, about to slam his glowing arm on her—
She blinked again, and the new day had come.