She wasn't sure what was wrong with her, but she was sure it was something—the same thing which had plagued her all summer, a fire in her bones, an ache in her heart. It hung heavy on her mind, urged her paws to move, urged her into motion, to flee, disappear; become smoke and drift towards the distant sky, never to be seen again. It was harsh and hot and thrumming just below her throat, a night-time roar in her ears, an itch she couldn't reach; restlessness so profound she drifted like tumbleweeds, and nothing, nothing, seemed to soothe it.
Things had changed, on the mountain. Ever since the lynx, it was like someone had brutally forced her eyes open, thrust every shadow, every fault and flaw, into them—where she had simply thought herself unlikable and a burden, she over-analyzed every single thing, somehow traced it all back to herself. She had traded fear for anger, for deep, visceral hatred, but directed at no one in particular.
Maybe, because it was easier to stay mad than to stay scared, a thin cover-up to mask the truth beneath.
Her sister had left without a word. Eidolon had turned up dead, her child missing. Desideria had died. Moonshadow had gone missing, then returned. Her mother had stepped down, then become a ghost; her father had stepped down. And through it all, Kajika had been there, and her heart had demanded she throw herself at him, press herself against him for safety, for comfort, for stability—and as with all things she wanted, she could not let herself have it. So, she had left, citing this reason or that reason, her soul burning and the fire spreading to her paws.
She had run. She had wanted to cut all ties, to just leave and never return, but that would be selfish. Her mother would worry. Her father would worry. And what if she came across them, later?
And then there was Kajika, whom she did not even want to leave.
It was early morning, but summer's heat lingered still. A few clouds hung upon the pale blue sky, rosy and peach sunlight filtering over the mountain's crest. The lake laid placid and smooth, familiar, yet also not, despite the fact that she had been gone merely a few weeks. It looked like it always had, peaceful and secluded, and yet she couldn't help feel like a stranger stumbling in on a family that was, probably, better off without her.
The silver shadow stood motionless, her brown eyes peering past the invisible border. She could still leave. She could turn away, disappear, just a stray memory of her scent blown past by a haunting wind.