<blockquote>It was only a matter of time until, one by one, the members of her family (all that was left of them) trickled in from the surrounding forest. Nina would remark on her injury, while issuing the fact that the one <i>thing</i> she actually didn't want to hear anything of tonight was still lingering on out there somewhere. If she'd heard correctly, the word 'pack' had been mentioned, but the thought was quickly dismissed. She did not believe it could be so, even <i>if it were</i>.
<b>"I am terribly sorry to hear that, Nina. Hopefully it will heal well,"</b> she added genuinely to chat, avoiding any potential talk about their enemies. <b>"Pakuna, <i>please</i> dig in,"</b> she near-interjected toward the end upon noticing the shewolf's polite pace. There was plenty to go around, certainly, and she wanted each of her wolves well fed, even if tonight it were not steak and potatoes. Her smile widened as Kashikoi joined them, and she would shake her head (as her mouth was full) at his sincere apology, which was really unnecessary though she truly appreciated it. Swallowing down the bite, she replied <b>"Come now, Kashi, you needn't apologize. Please, join us. Unfortunately, there was no hunt, but there is plenty of good meat, boar,"</b> she added supportively to Nina's statement.
The tawny leader welcomed Pakuna's talk of the children, who were well on their ways. Soon enough, the little ones would take their place beside their mother and brethren, and for a moment the proud matriarch envisioned them crawling shamelessly between Nina's legs as they stumbled their way to play beneath Kanosak, or Ruiko's watchful eyes. The future was so bright, it was blinding. <b>"From the feel of things, I believe the children will be quite the handful, but I know they will thrive with our love and guidance."</b> she reflected fondly, proudly as she looked over her pack, those who had no doubt supported and sustained her throughout the days that would become some of her fondest memories.
Speaking of the devil. There was no mistaking the sand-colored man who emerged from the shadow. She would stand now, honorably to offer greetings to her friend who she hadn't seen since the morning Kinis was discovered to be gone. As he neared, the woman was careful not to let the worry that had now overcome her show as her eyes traced every inch of Kanosak's thinning frame. Many things struck her mind: the emotional burden of each of them living without Kinis; the pressure they must all feel with the cubs' birth now very near, and with she unable to contribute productively; the conditions of the borders, with the threat of bloodshed and vengrance looming at their door. It could have been any one, or all, or none of those things which had afflicted the man so intensely, but the hardest thing about seeing him in that shape was the blatant fact that <i>she didn't know what was wrong</i>. His life was his business, but could she have been a better friend? Were there times when, perhaps, he'd needed someone, or needed her and she was not there? It was obvious that she had been distant in the later months, and now the repercussions of her short absenses in all of their lives were coming to haunt her. She should have been there. For Kinis. For Kanosak. For <i>each</i> of them. Had she failed?</blockquote>
(This post was last modified: May 29, 2012, 02:17 AM by Aeylen.)