The things in the mist

Nothing had been right since her daughter had disappeared. Her only daughter, her heart. The young mother couldn't sleep without her daughter, and so it was no surprise that the looked as though she hadn't slept. It'd been days, weeks, without sleep or a proper meal. Phantasm was doing what he could to help, but he wasn't her. She loved all of Medusa's children as her own, but they weren't her children. The only family she has that she loves in this damned world is her daughter, and now the world has taken her too!

The woman had practically paced a trench in her den, a noticeable path worn down by heavy, impatient steps. She'd gone out and searched everywhere she could look for her, only taking breaks when her ravens could go out and search for her. She was trying to stay strong, but the woman was obviously getting weaker. The ravens were taking over for her more now, nearly forcing the woman to rest while they worked themselves to the bone for her. She couldn't be more grateful, but she wanted to be out there.

Recluse never looked for her, and she was not her mother.

A loud, raucous cawing alerted her and she ran from the den. Had they found her? Had they brought her daughter home to her? Looking skyward, the ravens circled above before swooping off towards the distant island. The island. She hadn't searched there yet.

Dust flew as she tore through the plains after her ravens, desperation written clearly on her face. She didn't even think twice as she sped into the water and swam until she could pull herself onto the rocks edging the island, fueled by adrenaline that only an angry mother would have. As soon as her paws touched the grass, her daughters scent was clear. She was here.

Growling, Widow followed her scent trail noting that it was accompanied by a large cat. As the trail got fresher, the scent of another filled her nose. She broke from the trees into the clearing with the small shack, the scent of her daughter strong but laced with something medicinal. Pausing before the hut in a stance that suggested she would not be asking any questions, she roared, "Give me my daughter and I might let you live."

"Speech!"

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