[ This post is a real mess. ]
She hadn't been doing anything in particular—skulking around the territory, avoiding mostly everyone. Seeing Chan kept disturbing her, for some reason, and it didn't have that much to do with the rattlesnake. She hadn't figured out if it was upsetting because he was a baby, or because his existence upset the natural order of things. It didn't matter that her Mama and Papa had given them permission to create and raise him, something about it was still wrong and it made her think of Neha.
She was glad Neha had left. She wasn't sure she'd be able to stand the sight of her.
Her anger had mostly faded, leaving her hollow and bitter, lost and confused. There was a silver lining, a sunrise hinting that it might come, but it was difficult to grasp, and hold on to. She didn't live with the sinking feeling of having destroyed both her mother and their relationship anymore, and on rare occasion, she could actually find comfort in their presence—their love, a wicked, jagged thing. Sometimes, she could drift away in bliss. Sometimes, it rubbed her soul raw, leaving her frustrated and upset, and she usually left to find Kajika, or to explore the eastern slopes of the mountain. Her time in the Draw had left her with a fondness for trees, and as long as she was by herself she could pace it just as she wanted.
That which had frightened her had become her haven, a sanctuary from the confusion and desperation and frustration she felt around her pack. One of the worst things about it was that she didn't even know why she felt that way, she just did. So, she frequently escaped, enjoying the warm summer nights and the starry skies.
She'd been lying on a rock shelf by the southwestern border, watching the oncoming sunset—the sky began to turn a flaming red in the west as the burnished disc of the sun began to descend behind the Serpent's western spine. Kajika's trail had left the territory but hadn't come back, and she told herself she wasn't on the lookout for him. She was just enjoying the sunset. She was enjoying the knowledge that Moonshadow and Chan were safe and sound, that her Mama and her Papa slept curled up in each other's fur every night, and that her Mama still loved her.
But the moment his voice rang out over the placid lake, static shot through her body and she jolted upright, ears pressed forward. It wasn't so much the sound of his voice—she didn't go about reacting like that to his presence—but the mournful cry, the summons to another site of grief. She fought to relax her limbs, but the tension spread like shivers through her. Something was wrong. Her mind blanked. She ran.
She didn't notice the way she had to open her jaws and let her tongue loll out in the breeze. She didn't notice the flexing and contracting of her muscles. She didn't notice the ground beneath her paws, and how her toes spread for traction—she didn't notice the ease with which she navigated the lake shore, running helter-skelter to something she knew would test her emotions further. Lunette wasn't the kind to have her heart broken by sorrow—she was the type to be confused, to notice it, to digest is slowly, and go stare at the moon. Seeing Chan nearly eaten by a rattlesnake had hardly upset her, though logically she knew it would've been the emotionally appropriate answer.
Kajika stood by the shores of the hot springs, their hot mineral stench obscuring most other smells. He looked worn, defeated, as if another burden had been placed on his shoulders, and for a moment, she feared something had happened to him—why else was he just standing there?
She didn't slow until she was nearly upon him, sliding to a stop next to him, sides heaving, tongue lolling out, frantic eyes searching his face with a worry she was vaguely ashamed of displaying so brazenly. It made her uncomfortable to feel it, just as her pounding heart made her want to vomit. "Kaj—" she began, intending to ask what was the matter, what was wrong, why had he called them here, to the middle of nowhere? But then she saw it, and the rest of his name died on her tongue. Slowly, she drifted past him, brushing against him without noticing, and stared at the grisly sight.
A wolf, sometimes bare bones, sometimes still flesh and fur, lay at the water's edge. She was shored up against the lake, having drifted in with some wind, probably. The mineral smell masked the scent of death and decay.
Lunette just stared at her for a long, long time. No words passed her mouth. She barely turned her ears. She just watched the dead wolf. Her eyes moved—stared at the bared edges of rotting flesh, the sodden tufts of ginger fur, all blood washed from her veins. Maggots had largely left her alone, probably because of all the salt and ore in the water. After what felt like an eternity, she drew in a deep breath, but it hitched on something in her throat, shaking as it made it to her lungs. She knew, of course, who it was. Eidolon Seren. Just a fucking baby, couldn't be much more than a year older than Lunette herself. The memory of a wolf trying to eat her surfaced, but she pushed it down. Eidolon had had a son, hadn't she? But whose? And where is he?
Did it matter? She thought about it. It should matter, but there was no little bundle of Neel-colored fur around, so she had to assume he was either dead somewhere else, or alive somewhere else. They had both gone missing over a month ago—and this was what had happened to her at least. It was awful and sickening and Lunette kept staring at her throat. It had been mauled, but how much of the damage was decomposition, and how much was violence, she couldn't know.
She wondered if she should be sad—and on some level, she realized that she was. A life had been cut short. The life of a young, talkative girl. It was a sad thing, she realized, but what she felt the most was fury.
Her eyes smoldered with rage as she finally broke away from Eidolon's body, and focused her attention on Kajika. First Des, and now this. The skin atop her muzzle wrinkled, and a low, thunderous growl began in her chest. "Someone did this," she rumbled at him, surprised by the ferocity of the emotion washing over her—you don't mess with my family—and thinking maybe it would be better, more appropriate, if she was meek and demure and distraught and pressed herself against him and cried, but it wasn't what her body demanded. It wasn't what was in her at that moment, when all she could feel was that you don't do this, not to the Cove. Not to those she cared about.
She couldn't show them that she loved them, but she would kill for each and every one of them—even Chan. "And they'll pay," she promised, her voice savage, before the futility of it hit her.
Rage wouldn't help them now. Rage wouldn't help Eido. The fur along the back of her neck smoothed out, her growl died down, and her lips fell back to cover her teeth. Rage was all well and good when you had a lynx to teach some manners, but here? It was her and Kajika and the dead, and the dead weren't going to reveal what they knew. She flicked her ears back, ducked her head as if ashamed, and licked her lips before sidling up next to him and pressing her side against his. She couldn't shake the image of his tired stance, the memory of his sad howl—she'd fight the whole damn world for him, to protect him, keep him safe, give in return everything he kept giving her. She whined, pressed her shoulder against his. "But how do we find them?" she whispered, finding comfort in being practical instead of trying to understand the whirlwind of emotions just beneath the surface.