It was different returning to Lyria the second time.
The first time, when she, well not she but Liebschten, had died holding the cock of chaos, something had gone wrong. It was just screams. There were all her memories and those were fading. But the soul and Kit’s soul, their souls were wrong, and they needed to go back. It was maybe not her still. It maybe was? But she needed to go back. Right away. The screaming – something in her – it would not stop. Broju would send her back. Maybe she was screaming? She didn’t really know. The screaming didn’t stop or die away and she needed beyond any reason to return.
Back in the grim grey world of the place she didn’t actually care about, the screaming stopped. Things righted themselves. And she inhabited a strange, eager young dwarf. Such a strange concept.
And then the cold of the glacier lake came after the thump of the comet… ouch…
And a quiet death, back in the room with Broju.
“Thank you,” she muttered, “that was much better,” she blinked and saw Orphée again and, instinctively, she became fox and jumped up onto her lap. Her two fox companions, rubbing their soft bodies about her ankles.