Winter had come on, chilly and soggy.  It wasn't very much like she'd seen in her books.  Meadow was wondering if the snow would come, and desperately hoping that it would.  It had to snow, right?  It just had to.  Even if it wasn't snowing quite yet, there was still so much grey.  A dreary, soggy, foggy sort of thing... ew.  She didn't like the way the winter ground felt beneath her paws, and she wasn't a huge fan of the cold.  It was too much, a real assault on each of her senses.   Meadow was spending more and more of her days holed up in her favorite place.  The library was pretty well insulated as it was, along an interior wall even.  She was happy to wrap herself in her favorite blanket and tuck herself away among the books for hours on end, even she did have to light the lamps earlier and earlier each day.  It was on this fairly average winter afternoon that the girl found her eyelids growing heavy as she read, her yawns getting more and more frequent.   Without really noticing, Meadow drifted off to sleep, her head resting heavily on the pages of a dusty volume with brilliantly illustrated pictures.   "Speech"

The afterlife is closed off with those residing in it having no concept of what the living are doing. However, when one searching mind reaches out, stirring the long-passed Meadow into wakefulness, the dead woman knows exactly who is trying to find her. Where the fog of the world she lives in first greets the slowly waking child, the older woman begins to shift it into something more pleasant.

A brilliant green meadow flickers into life with hundreds of bright, multi-color wildflowers ringing the area, with the promise of trees at the edges of the clearing. A gentle breeze ruffles the pup’s fur, attempting to pull her into awareness as warmth of a nonexistent sun warms her fur like a loving embrace. The wolf whose life was lived slowly walks toward the pup whose name is shared with her and the Meadow that is dead loving looks at the beautiful white, tan, and black girl.

From the ether, the older woman is given all the information she needs about the girl, who she is and why she is here. While she may not know what is going on in the living world, the moment someone seeks her out, the woman is given all the information she needs. With a sing-song voice, the woman calls out, “Meadow. Time to wake up dear one.” The pair have much to discuss.


"Meadow Lark"

The winter chill of the castle long behind her, Meadow can feel the sunlight long before anything else. It's comforting, brilliant, she can feel it on her face and on her back. It fills every part of her system, a weighted blanket. Restful, peaceful, all of the things here are golden. The sounds aren't too loud, the colors aren't too saturated, and everything is filled with light. Nothing could get her here. She's safe. And through the sleep she can hear it. A voice, cadence not unlike her mother's. It seems to slip its hand through hers, as much as a voice could do. She knows this voice, or at least, her soul knows it. Shining eyes flicker open, curious and soft. Everything here seemed to make sense, and she did too. Her head quirks softly to the side as she climbs to her feet, movements seemingly weightless. As her gaze finds the woman, she gets the same sensation as catching her reflection in a puddle. Knowing. Understanding, like a part of you is looking back. She takes a slow step towards the woman, and then another. Closing the gap with more ease than she can ever recall approaching a stranger. They really did have much to discuss. "Speech"

The small woman gazes lovingly at her granddaughter as a swell of pride surges in her chest. Meadow stands still as the girl takes a slow step toward her, a bright, beaming smile on the woman’s pale lips. Softly she speaks, “Oh my child. Look how beautiful you are! Come here, give me hug.” The child’s struggle with life is laid out in front of the dead wolf and all she seez is a beautiful soul. Light frame comes to rest on the ground as she lifts her arms, opening them wide to embrace her granddaughter and, if she accepts the hug, the woman’s arms will close lightly around the pale girl’s frame.

She radiates love and peace in Meadow II’s presence, ready and willing to help her with anything she needs. The gentle, ghostly hug lasts as long the girl allows and, when Meadow pulls back, she raises a paw to trace the shape of the pup’s cheek. Her smile never falters as she gazes deep in the blue pools seeing her daughter reflected in those oceanic depths. A dreamy sigh passes her lips as she places a slender paw over on of her granddaughter’s, gentle tones explaining, “I am your grandmother, the one whose name you bear. My name is Meadow and I am Fern’s mother.”

The words a spoken at a slow, deliberate pace, giving the girl time to absorb the information as she talks. Meadow’s emerald gaze looks deep into the girl’s eyes, connecting soul to soul and immediately understanding the girl’s struggle with finding her voice. The paw that is resting gently on top of granddaughter’s lifts to come to come to lightly rest on the girl’s chest and she softly asks, “What is wrong my child?” Everything about Meadow speaks of love, patience, and acceptance and the woman simple wishes to help her sweet granddaughter in any way she needs.


"Meadow Lark"

For perhaps the first time, she is at peace. Well and truly at peace. Like there's something here, something in her that's... something that makes sense. Meadow moves to embrace her grandmother, giving the woman a warm hug. Though it didn't feel like she was quiet solid, she also wasn't quite not solid. A strange experience, but one that she would treasure. A touch to her face, too. Meadow doesn't recoil, instead looking up to her grandmother with shining eyes. Shining, glimmering. All of her was. What is wrong, the question finally comes. The girl takes a slow, shaky breath. She thinks about all of the times she's tried to speak, all of the things she's wanted to or tried to say-- just that the words couldn't come. She thinks about the prickles of anxiety, and the fact that she doesn't know why. There is no why, there is no ability to talk about why it happens. Meadow thinks for a long moment, and then she swallows hard. Trying to will the words to come forward. Finding them, as the very presence of her grandmother manages to finally ease away enough of the anxiety, enough of the panic. "It's like a wall stopping the words from coming out," The words are very, very soft. They're spoken sheepishly, the child looking at the ground. Her heart pounded in her chest, but... she'd done it. The words had finally come. "Speech"

There is warmth, in this space between life and death, that infuses everything. It brings peace and promises understanding as she embraces her granddaughter, pride and love shining brightly in the woman’s emerald eyes. Meadow holds fast to the child, encircling her arms around her young relation and returns the hug with a content sigh. Oh, how she misses them and she often wishes that she could be there, in the flesh to offer strong, protective hugs to her granddaughter. A paw touches that sweet face, memorizing each line in the girl’s face so she can keep it close to her heart when the child leaves.

Kind, gentle eyes watch as Meadow II works up the courage to speak and the older woman offers her all the patience and time that she needs. She is rewarded with a soft, sheepish voice and her granddaughter turns her gaze to the ground. A slender paw lifts, gentle coming to rest underneath her sweet child’s chin as she attempts to raise the girl’s head. Leaning in, Meadow softly nuzzles the girl’s cheek before pressing a sweet kiss into the fur in the middle of her granddaughter’s forehead. Once she gets the girl to bring her gaze back up to her, the ghostly woman gently says, “I am so proud of you, Meadow.”

Her paw finally leaves her granddaughter’s chin, lightly brushing the fur on her cheek before returning to the ground. The smile that rests on the ethereal woman’s lips is proud and filled with love as she continues, “The world is waiting to hear your voice, sweet child. You are stronger than you and much braver than you think. No matter what, I will always, always be proud of you. And that wall you feel?” Gently, Meadow shakes her skull as she lifts a paw to gently press it into the child’s chest before she continues, “That wall is fear. But you want to know something? You have the power to break it apart and I can help with that.”

Eyes sparkle with happiness as she has one arm wrapped loosely around her granddaughter’s shoulders and the other, lifted so her paw can gently rest against the girl’s chest.


"Meadow Lark"