It happened over years, and yet in an instant. One moment there was dying, then nothing, and then... the shadows parted like silken curtains, and she breathed once more. Mossy green eyes opened, her heart thundering in her chest. Tall trees, taller than any she'd seen before, swayed in a gentle wind flavored just slightly by salt and surf. Her throat tightened, lips parting to swallow that air down - more, faster. As if she couldn't get enough, as if she were dying in the desert and that air were an oasis.

Something brushed lightly against her cheek, startling her, and her hand lifted. She studied it as it shook, admired its lines, it's calluses and scars. It was a good hand. A strong hand. She'd fought monsters, crafted weapons with those hands. And yet they'd shaken, just like this, the first time she reached for her children. With Olive, the first, she'd thought... this is normal, she's your first. But then it had happened again, and again. Each child terrified her in that moment, that single breathless eternity before she clasped them to her for the first time.

Grief struck her out of nowhere, a crippling breathless agony that ripped through her chest with deadly precision. Alone in the forest, she wept like a child, helpless, inconsolable. Hours, eons, passed, until the well of pain inside her heart was barren at last.

Her head lifted slowly, eyes puffy and red and she found she was not as alone as she'd thought. They stood around her, ringed her on all sides. They came in all shapes and colors, dressed and undressed, armed and unarmed. Male, female, fluid, they stood tall and proud, their markings bright on their skin. Animal and human, shifting seamlessly from one to another.

A woman nudged the others aside, strode forward. A steady man, dark of skin and gentle of face, followed after more gently, more sedately. The female broke through the circle, made a beeline right for her. From a few feet away, they studied each other. The man drew to a halt slightly to the side, just as intent, but she couldn't bring herself to tear her gaze away. They were locked, tangled in that familiar, bright green color they shared.

And then the woman threw her head back, and the song that rose from her throat sent shivers down her spine. It was a song of loss, and of finding. Of pain and healing. The akkide followed suit, their song one of welcome, of a homecoming. A life well lived. And then they faded back into the forest, as soundlessly as they'd come.

Their arms locked around each other then, held tight as if they'd both fall to pieces if they dared relax an inch. The akkide gathered close, reached to touch her. A hand on her hair, a squeeze at her shoulder. The man held her the longest, swaying slightly in his comforting arms. It had been over three hundred years since she'd seen him, but her father still made her feel tiny and safe and invincible all at once. No harm could possibly come to her, not as long as he hugged her.

"You shouldn't be here, nuyiut,," he whispered into her hair. Darling. Her father called her darling, how had she forgotten that?

"Kera!" the woman objected, loudly. Birch smiled, three hundred years apart and her mother hadn't changed a bit. "She only just got here. And she's had plenty long a life-"

"But she lived so very little of it, Jura," her father replied placidly, brushing a loving hand over the top of his wife's head. Jura rolled expressive green eyes in his direction, but softened when her eyes met Birch's again.

"Where are we?" Birch whispered shakily.

"I think you know," Jura whispered.

"The Hunting Grounds." She didn't ask it, she said it. Because, before she'd even opened her mouth, the knowledge had come to her.

Jura nodded, reaching up to cup Birch's cheek as if she couldn't stop herself. "Yes, you're finally home," Jura said, an uncharacteristic wobble sneaking into her voice before she could catch it. She cleared her throat sternly, gave a little shake of her head. "But, a s much as I hate to admit it, your father's right." Kera chuckled softly in the background, even while Birch slowly shook her head.

"But... I was... there was a corrupted-" It hit her like a load of bricks, a lead weight in her stomach. Jura looked at her with sympathy as Birch's world spun. "The kids."

"They're okay, munbil," her mother said. My love. "They're okay. That handsome fellow with the terrible tastes in gods is looking after them. What was his name again?" She looked to her mate expectantly, looking slightly annoyed as Kera shrugged.

"He's good with plants," he rumbled as if that were the most important thing.

It took her a second to put it together - partially because she'd found herself reeling for a moment all over again, at having them here in front of her, so wonderfully alive. "Jacopo?"

"Yes, that's the one! Yacapoo."

Birch groaned. "That's not even close, Mudau" Mother. How it rolled off the tongue so easily!

Jura flapped her hand at Birch as if physically brushing away her daughter's reproach. "I said he was handsome, didn't I?"

"Jacopo came to Knell?"

"No," said Kera helpfully. Birch looked at him but he had nothing more to share, apparently - he was busy studying a nearby leaf with sudden intensity, no doubt listing a thousand recipes, potions, or poisons it could be used for. They'd get no more from him for now; he'd only surface when he was damn well ready, and not a moment later. The women sighed in unison; surprised and amused, they shared a grin, love for him mingled with exasperation mirrored on each other's face.

"They're doing well enough, but they still need you," Jura said softly, abruptly serious again. She squeezed Birch's hand.

Birch squeezed back. "They'll always need me, Mudau, just as I will always need you. But I have to leave them eventually - eventually they have to stand on their own, like I had to."

"Yes, that is the cycle, of course, but you haven't run your full course yet. Your body is still strong, your heart powerful," Jura rested her hand over her daughter's heart, and Birch could hear it suddenly, became aware of its thundering. "There is still so much you could do - must do. You must go to them, hold them tight while you still can.'

"But I just found you again," Birch whispered. "I've missed you so much."

"And I you, munbil, and I you!" Jura's voice wobbled again, making her shift uncomfortably before she continued on. "Your nannap" Papa. "and I have missed you every day since we parted. Not a day has gone by when we've not thought of you, looked down on you with pride, and wished we could have this time with you. But that's the beauty about this place, we'll always be here for you. And someday, when you're old and gray and have a thousand grandbabies, you'll come back to us. We'll hunt, and fish, and you'll meet your ancestors."

"But that day is not today," Kera interjected. Jura shot him a playful glare.

"Good of you to return to the conversation just as I'm making your point."

Kera shrugged again. "I was right."

"Yes, yes," Jura said, meeting Birch's gaze and rolling her eyes.

"But how do I get back? I'm sort of... dead, aren't I?"

"Yes," said Kera slowly, calmly, before adding. "And also the bit about how your planet blew up."

"WHAT?!"

"Kerahi Destra!" Jura said, lightly slapping her husband's beefy arm. He looked at her, all bemused innocence. Jura harrumphed, looking back to Birch. "Nevermind that. First you need to find someone to talk to."

Birch gave her mother a suspicious look. "... About the planet-"

"Oh, well, the Gods got mad and-" Jura quickly covered Kera's mouth, glowering at him.

"All this time I've loved you and I can still barely get you to say more than three words at a time and you pick now to suddenly get chatty?"

Kera nibbled at Jura's fingertips, making her flush pink under her dark tan. Like an enchanted teen, she cocked her head slightly to the side, eyes sparkling. Birch rolled her eyes, trying to ignore them. Parents!

"A-Anyways," Jura continued, tugging her hand out of her husband's and giving him a stern look. "Let's not worry about that now, nuyiut. What matters, right at this moment, is that you need to find someone who can help you get back to Shaman."

"Shaman?"

"Well, they've got magic and things there, don't they? I'm sure they've got something lying around that could bring you back to life."

Birch frowned thoughtfully, the idea making more sense than she'd expected. "And the kids?"

"Already there! So it's quite perfect, isn't it?"

Her mother wrapped her arm around her waist while her father took up the other side, his hand at her shoulder. Before she knew what was happening they were marching her along at a steady pace.

"So how do I-?"

"You'll figure it out, nuyiut," Kera said, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

"All the luck in the universe, munbil," Jura added, kissing her other cheek. "We love you, don't forget."

And then she was through doors she was absolutely certain weren't there before, into a room made of smooth, white marble. The doors - heavy old oak doors with "The Hunting Grounds" emblazoned on them in shifting, shimmering gold letters - ground closed behind her. Birch looked back, catching the final glimmer of familiar green eyes as the crack slowly lessened and her parents were gone from sight. Birch crossed her arms over her chest, shaking her head.

"Typical," she grunted. Death and three hundred years hadn't relieved her parents of the notion they knew best for her. And the worst part was - they were probably right. Birch sighed. So now she had to figure out a way to be not-dead. That should be easy, right? She snorted and shook her head again.

"I guess we don't have anything else to do," she said to herself, and shrugged. She cleared her throat, listening to the echo through the smooth white room. So now she just needed to find someone to get her back to Shaman, but how? She glanced around the room again. Well, it wouldn't hurt to be a bit literal about the whole "talking to someone" bit, would it? "Can anybody hear me?" she called. The echoes faded slowly, and then...