He had ranged in search of a meal, a morsel or two for his family: Bramble, Foxtail, himself, and the unborn pups that grew in his intended’s belly. It was thrilling to be at the very beginning of something like this. It was like his life had begun the moment he met Bramble, and he would search the four corners of the continent for just the right bit of flesh to bring home for her meal. However, he hadn’t been forced to range as far as that. Near the marsh bottom he had found a wild turkey, big enough to feed them but light enough to drag home once he disassembled it. He’d find something more tomorrow. Their home was plentiful with game and Tybalt usually had no trouble at all coming home with something for their little trio. It was more work than when the three of them hunted together for larger game, but he didn’t mind it. Better to keep Bramble in game, strong and healthy. They would have strong and healthy pups, all of them rusty miniatures of their parents. It was with thoughts of his family to be in his head that the large tawny male set to tearing apart the mottled bird he’d just dispatched.
Then something happened, a sensation like being ripped from the ground and thrown into the sky filled him. Tybalt yelped, and snarled, his hackles rising and body rippling with adrenaline charged muscle. After that initial shock he whined again, lavender eyes casting about his surroundings as his mind quickly sorted out the message. Something was wrong. His attachment to Bramble had been nagging at him all day, though it usually did when he wandered so far. The sensation was so familiar that it was almost a comfort, and so he had not read too much into it. Now suddenly, it was gone. No worse than gone. A snarl of rage and fear tore from his lips and Tybalt abandoned their meal and ran. He legs were long but his body was heavy and he loathed himself for it, if only he had grown up more willowy, quicker… Every second it took him to run back to the place Bramble had chosen for her den was its own agony.
She was alone when he found her. Tybalt whimpered and trotted up to her, head low, he cast about for Foxtail—half hoping she was there to tell him what he was terrified to discover himself. His Bramble was as beautiful as they day they’d met. She was bigger now, full grown and nearing the time when the pups would come. The mud on her paws was drying; it crumbled away when he gently touched her leg with his larger pad. She did not even smell like Bramble now, not to him… He howled mournfully, trying to understand why she could be living inside him one moment and completely gone the next. How could she just be torn away like that? After what he had felt for her? Like their souls were meant to be joined for eternity…but no, not eternity. Bramble was gone. Gone from the world. Gone from him. There was nothing mystical about the emptiness he felt. Tybalt’s countenance grew dark and he raged against the sky. Hadn’t this meant anything?!
He had never decided to set out after Foxtail. He had simply nosed about for something to latch onto, in his sorrow her smell was a sanctuary and—with a feeling of longing he would later feel great guilt for—he set out after the sister of his lost one. She was faster than he was, Tybalt knew this from their hunts together, when Foxtail wanted to run she could and for an impressive distance. He didn’t care. The only thought was to find her, to be near her. Somehow certain that neither of them would survive this if he didn’t. The run did little to clear his mind, Tybalt wanted to mourn. The emptiness in him felt like more than loss… it felt as though a part of him had simply been removed, erased. He knew what he had felt for Bramble—but when he reached for the sensation it was gone, and the loss of it compounded that which he already suffered. When he found Foxtail, she was lying in the grass and Tybalt balked and dropped to his belly with a whine. He stared across the distance between them—knowing it was her, recognizing the rusty black of her unique pelt—not prepared to come upon another body, another loss.
The rain began to fall, cold drops leaving little circles of shadow on his light pelt. He felt as though he’d been staring at Foxtail for hours rather than minutes when she curled into a ball and tucked her face away from the overcast sky. He stood up almost too quickly, and then hesitated…but his grief was too great to remain alone. Tybalt crossed the few hundred feet at a trot, announcing himself to the smaller female with a tired whimper before dropping beside her and curling himself up as well. His back against hers, the rain coming more steadily after a peal of thunder resounded in the distance. They had been a family, and now it was just Tybalt and Foxtail…no longer a family at all, but two broken pieces of the same vessel, not a single edge fitting together. “I left her in the den. I didn’t want anyone to find her. She was ours. No one needs to find her.” He murmured, loud enough for just Foxtail to hear. The loss and pain in his voice ebbing away until there was only the huskiness of Tybalt, edged with new coldness. Not coldness for Foxtail, but for the world. A world that had lied to him. An imprint was not forever, he was alive, he was the same… but Bramble was gone, like she’d never existed at all.
