They say you don't miss the water until it's gone. That has never been more apt - Oizys realises now how much she took her mother for granted, how little she appreciated the ironheart's kindness, her willingness to do anything for her children even when they offered little in return. She had milked her body dry to feed winter-born twins and keep their heritage a secret from their herd, only to have one disappear anyway and be left with Oizys, who had rarely shown affection or even had a kind word for the woman who raised her. Now Nyx is gone, the gargoyle feels lost. Empty.

It took the grey mare's death for Oizys to realise that her mother had been her rudder, keeping her on course through the stormiest of seas. In Nyx's absence, the yearling is left alone, drifting aimlessly through the ocean like a piece of wood. She's drowning, and she can't say a single damn word about it, because it's her fault in the first place.

You are not to blame, says Tembovu. The stone-coloured yearling appreciates the sentiment, but it sends a shudder of misery down her spine as she thinks about the fact she is very much to blame. She loved battle and she loved her children. Just then, just like that, the truth is on the tip of Oizys' tongue. She wants to tell the Elephant that she is of Nyx's womb and proud of it, that the fallen General spun a lie to keep herself and her children safe from the resentment that would no doubt have been aimed at them. She wants to shout from the rooftops that she shares blood with the woman who died to save her. She's so close to saying it, to finally admitting that she's lived a lie, that she's not the foundling in the snow but Nyx's daughter.

Something stops her, though. It is not her secret to tell, and it never has been. The gargoyle never fully understood her dam's insistence on hiding the truth from her herd, but she owes the mare that much, at least here in the Edge. In the wider Helovian populace she thinks she no longer has to live a lie, but here amongst Nyx's closest friends and family, the truth must follow her to her grave.

"Thank you," is all she can choke out. She remembers last time she spoke one-on-one with the Elephant - she'd been bitching about being taught to heal, had been so full of hatred that it had almost consumed her. Maybe if she'd paid more attention to Evangeline's teachings, she could have saved her mother, even though she knows deep down that Nyx was dead the moment she barged her daughter out of the way of the bone monster's wrath. Tembovu will surely not recognise the broken girl that stands quivering slightly in front of him, the fire and rage long gone from her eyes to be replaced with an empty pit of sorrow. There is a painful irony in the fact that it has taken such a bereavement to truly knock the wind out of headstrong young Oizys's sails, to remind her that she's not the invincible beast queen she thought she was but simple flesh, blood and weakness wrapped in grey skin.

"For everything." She can't believe she's saying these things - she's disgusted in herself for it, but the words slip without permission from her clenched lips. Ker tangles her beak more tightly around the filly's mane, chirping reassurance. "You, this herd, made her life worth living. Even when her own children abandoned her, she always had you. I...I know she died happy in the knowledge that you were her friend, and I know she'll watch over you as much as she'll watch over me." She can't help the choked tone of her voice, the sting of tears in the back of her throat. Before she can truly dissolve, before her last remaining strength truly abandons her, the gargoyle turns and moves to leave, hiding her anguished face in the shadows as she walks slowly away.