snufkiin: Her self-reflection was no reflection at all. It was a shattered mirror. Something she had
snufkiin: Her self-reflection was no reflection at all. It was a shattered mirror. Something she had to piece together, over and over again. Memory by memory. Loss by loss. Wolf by wolf. This was why, every night before she fell asleep, she peeled back her sleeve, traced the wolves, and said their names. Because somewhere in there—in those fragments of gone souls and memories—was Yael. Not chemicals, but essence. The real Yael. -- source link