bottled up

<blockquote><b>"Oi,"</b> she whispered, prodding him with a paw. <b>"Wake up. Hocus. Hocus! Wake up, fathead."</b>

It was the middle of the night, but she couldn't sleep, she couldn't sleep a wink. It wouldn't have been so bad if she had a solid reason to attribute to her sudden insomnia, but the more she thought about it, the further from a conclusion she came to, and the longer she stayed awake. It was a vicious cycle, and though she couldn't bring herself to sleep, she actually felt exhausted. It was irritating and paradoxical and she didn't like it.

The best solution, therefore, was to share out the suffering.

Keeping herself quiet, so not to wake the rest of the pack who were sleeping so damned peacefully, she prodded viciously at her chosen victim, ready to hiss him to quietness should he wake up and blurt something out without thinking.</blockquote>

What <i>was</i> this stuff? It was like a fine purple mist that clung to the ground, which seemed to lap at his heels as he pawed through it. Hocus paused to sniff it intensely, taking in the rich flavour. It smelt of blood, like that of the deer they'de seen killed. He wouldn't be like Trisden and claimed to have had a part in it, they had been mere spectators. None of this was really in his mind though as the mist seemed to draw him in, the scent growing thicker. It began to probe him, sharply jabbing his ribs and... was it insulting him?

The immersion was broken, the purple dispelled. Instead, it was almost pitch black, the scent fading to lower levels, although he could smell Trisden very close to him. He quickly shut his eyes again, pretending to be asleep. Trying to reinforce this, he gave a very unrealistic grunt and turned his head away, the better to hide his expression of slight amusement. Dammit, that really tickled!

<blockquote>There, she had him. Relieved that nobody else had stirred, and that he hadn't yelled out, she got ready to whisper hurried commands to him - but then he shifted and grunted, and Trisden saw through his façade so easily it was insulting.

She pouted. She knew it was an ungodly hour, but dammit, if she couldn't sleep then neither could he! Her actions becoming increasingly spiteful, she jabbed him once more, hard, before pouncing bodily onto him, reaching down to tug on his ear a little too roughly. <b>"Don't bother, you're awful at faking,"</b> she hissed, waiting for any further crack in his defences.</blockquote>

Pretending to sleep could work, but it may just be easier to indulge her. Who knows, perhaps she only wants him to give her his sleeping spot, which he would gladly give her in exchange for peace and quiet.

Hocus rolled over and looked at her, his serious expression ruined by the rather lame and debilitating position he was on by being on his back. <b>"Yes?"</b> Hocus gave a sigh and continued in a whisper before she could answer, <b>"and it had better be brief, I was having an amazing dream."</b> He was tempted to add 'because you weren't there,' but thought it a little harsher than she deserved.

<blockquote>When he surrendered, an evilly pleased Trisden smiled back at him. She remained on top of him, partly because it ensured that he couldn't turn away again, and partly because she enjoyed the feeling of domination. One day, she'd force bigger and meaner things to roll over for her. Hocus was way too much of a pushover to consider this any real victory.

<b>"Your dreams are boring, they're of dirt and staring at trees. I'm doing you a favour."</b> She smirked at him, aware that she was doing nothing of the sort, but she was beginning to feel better already. Sharing the burden was a really good idea! <b>"Let's go outside, I want to see what the forest is like with a full moon."</b></blockquote>

Why did he tell her about that dream? He cursed himself for his foolishness and started after her into the moonlight, hid eyes groggy. Well, he had learned his lesson: never tell Trisden your dreams. Ever.

<b>"The moon probably looks just like it did last night,"</b> he whispered wearily, <b>"only slightly more full."</b> He was right, of course. The moonlight was much the same as last night, and the forest only slightly more illuminated. It was, however, far colder. Hocus could feel the warmth of the den beckoning him back, but he continued to plod after Trisden, dissatisfied but dutiful. If he didn't go, she'd just go alone and end up hurting herself doing something stupid.

<blockquote><b>"You're always such a boring spoilsport,"</b> she hissed at him, though in truth she was pleased at his relenting. Now that she had a real excuse not to sleep - even if it was a totally fabricated excuse - she was feeling great, and the tiredness was fading. She practically bounced out of the den, disappointed but not surprised in his lack of enthusiasm.

It only took a moment for her to observe 'what the forest looked like at night' before she concluded that Hocus was right; it was pretty much the same. Peering up at the sky, she also concluded that the moon wasn't entirely full yet. Maybe she could drag him out of bed again tomorrow night to see if anything was different?

Coming back around to sit next to her white brother, Trisden kept her gaze in the sky, her thoughts floating off. <b>"Hocus,"</b> she whispered, her mood changed. <b>"Did... did you see Prosper? When they buried him?"</b></blockquote>

<i>Had she really come out just to see the woods at night?</i> Hocus mused, thinking the illusion rather feeble when she mentioned Prosper. Hocus hasn't really spoken to anyone about Prosper since he had gone missing -and been found. It seemed like so long ago that the disappearance that Hocus barely felt a connection at all. The realization gave Hocus pause. He cared unconditionally for Trisden because she was his blood but didn't feel anything for Prosper? That was curious. Even a fellow packmember he could see himself expressing more sorrow for than Prosper. Maybe it was because Prosper chose to leave. He'd chosen his path and the creator had punished him for it.

<b>"No,"</b> Hocus said truthfully, <b>"I hear it was unnatural, though. The death, I mean."</b> The white wolf bared his teeth at the cold night, but there was no response. The spirits weren't abroad tonight, they wouldn't claim another Lyall tonight. But what about tomorrow? Or the next day? Hocus knew they were coming, they had to be. Waiting for him or Arlette or Trisden or...

Hocus jumped a little as the wind picked up, waking him from his reverie. <b>"Why, did you see him?"</b> Hocus tried to sound more cheerful, but the subject had him on edge.

<blockquote>Trisden's ears flicked back in discomfort as Hocus spoke. She had heard the same thing - or sensed it, rather, in the faces of the adults - but it was hard to tell where confusion ended and sorrow began. Trisden had mourned her brother, but not to any great degree, and not as much as she would have done had the boy turned up earlier. He was a memory, now. Trisden had long sought to replace him, which she felt she had succeeded in doing. Was the only lingering impression of her littermate that of the shoes she filled?

<b>"Yes, I watched them,"</b> she admitted quietly. She had not wanted to be there, so depressing and heavy had the atmosphere been; she had felt that her sadness could not compete with her mother's, with Elettra's, and thus had not belonged. But she had lingered nearby for a short while, offering her lost brother a prayer, which was something that she did not often do any more.

<b>"I didn't... I mean, I didn't see much of him. Prosper."</b> Why was his name so hard to say? Frowning, unable to process the tumult of emotion that her question had created in her chest, Trisden kept her gaze on the moon. If she looked anywhere else, the confusing mix of feelings would be impossible to control, she was suddenly and irrationally sure.

<b>"Do you think...?"</b> she began, but the question trailed off into obscurity; she wasn't even sure what the ending was herself.</blockquote>

Hocus could tell Trisden wasn't sure how to handle this. The pausing conversation almost frustrated Hocus into anger, tired as he was, but he bit his tongue and let his sister continue. She clearly needed to talk about this and, trying not to sound self-promoting, Hocus knew that she could talk to him plainly. Hocus would listen, despite wanting to be asleep, and he probably wouldn't be thanked for it either.

<b>"Do I think what?</b> Hocus asked, unsure what she was going to say. <b>"We couldn't have done anything. He left when we were young."</b> Hocus assumed she was feeling guilty, she certainly was acting guilty, but Hocus couldn't tell why. She had done nothing wrong and Prosper's fate was of his own making. Well that, and some very mean supernatural intentions.