Azura's POV
I knew it before I saw it. That particular cold that had nothing to do with temperature, pressing in from every side, sitting heavy in my lungs with every breath. Grey and thick and completely familiar now in the way things became familiar when they kept coming back whether you invited them or not.
I was standing in the middle of it.
And she was there.
Not running this time. Not moving at all. She was standing completely still, facing me, her hood up and her face hidden the way it always was, like the one thing this vision had decided it was never going to give me was that. The baby was in one arm, limp and sleeping against her, one small hand hanging loose outside the cloth it was wrapped in.
I looked at her, and she looked back at me from inside the shadow of her hood, and neither of us moved for a moment.
Then she raised her other arm.
She pointed.
