@savidicus ---A wounded Witch
Morrigan stumbled through the portal she summoned through the mirror, weak at the toll the magic had taken on her body. It was more challenging with what was growing inside--the added pulse that signaled a new life. The life of an ancient soul that now pulsed through her.
Where she was, even she did not know--but all she knew was that she had to keep moving. Away from her. From Flemeth. The old crone was still alive, and Morrigan couldn’t let her find them.
But being on the run has taken its toll, and she is hungry and exhausted. She stumbles, falling to her knees first, and she thought she felt snow--but it was warm. Her finger curl against the grass, the snow that had berated at her earlier melting away. There were footsteps, and it wasn’t in her nature to beg or grovel, no she had glared at the approaching shadow with the little bit of defiance she had left. To perish here, ha.. what would the Warden say?
Feeling the warmth in her stomach, though she showed no signs of growth there yet--she curled another hand defensively and whispered. ❝ ...can’t.. be found.. ❞ Her expression faltered, this child was not one she’d risk. This was hers. She couldn’t... Her vision faded, as a hand hovered over her--was this how it’d end? ❝ Please… ❞
