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high in the halls of the kings who are gone
the priestess would dance with her ghosts

Traveled paws seemed to sting just a little bit less here where the soil was damp and soft. Karine had lost track by this point of how long she'd been traveling. Not all this time had been spent walking, either; first it had been running, screaming, wailing...but that was months ago, now. Her voice had long since recovered from its hoarseness, her heart from its surprisingly nonlethal aches and spasms. One might not have even been able to tell by looking at her that she'd been fleeing from anything at all--or that she'd just lost everything.

And yet, there snuck from her lips soft words of thanks to the merciful soil between her toes.

The fallen priestess avoided the puddles and pools for now, not wanting to have to waste time later on scraping icy droplets from her fur. Exactly what had led her into a marsh she didn't quite know, but then, Karine didn't really bother questioning herself anymore. It wasn't as if she had anywhere to go, anyone to find--at least, not until she had a lead. This wasn't a place of kingdoms to the south, tribes to the north, and bloodthirsty empires in between. In some twisted change of fate, she finally had what she wanted: freedom...to do whatever she wished. If only that wish wasn't to be buried in patients, nieces, and nephews.

Her stride was smooth, but her eyelids were heavy. She wondered how long she might sleep once she let them close. So tempting was the thought, as she spotted some meager shade and a drier patch of ground...but there was something, someone beyond her point of focus that managed to grab her attention before she could think to collapse and doze away the day. The woman paused, her attention shifting to it, velvet ears folding as she took a quiet moment to let herself be absorbed by what the stranger was doing--the motions of his paws, the care with which his toes carved the little plant out from its spot in the earth. How she missed that. She missed her healer's pouch, her massive den with its shelves in the walls and its many beds strewn about the floor, its decorations so lovingly provided by her apprentice....Suddenly, she was tiptoeing forward, her steps delicate as if she were about to indulge in something forbidden.

"As beautiful a gift as it is a medicine," she hummed at last, though at first her weary amethysts refused to lift from the flowering plant. The smile on her face was subtle, warm, and unwavering...despite how much it wanted to.

"

the ones she had lost and the ones she had found
and the ones who had loved her the most