It will never be the same again. Her body may be with him deep in the lair that they shared together, but her warmth will never return. She did indeed begin to rot and smell, not her scent and yet it still was forever hers and forever sweet. It was the best he could get for the rest of his life, was the odor of her decomposing body. Never was he to feel her soul be connected to his again. He could only feel the burning rage of her being gone, taken from him. Mourning death was always a strange thing, and in this case, it was even stranger than before. He didn't feel right, and he imagined he never would feel right ever again.

The scent of Siren was on her. Siren and another. It dug into his skull. Why was her scent so strong on her when he found Lillith? Why was the blood of another so strong, and yet gone? Had some boy killed Lillith and took Siren with him? He had left in a craze, his mind blinded and clouded, but now after a time, he was able to attempt to calculate it as allowed his nose to bury in the remain of Lillith's fur. He still could barely even ponder the thought that Siren had killed her, his daughter so sickeningly sweet. He could only wonder what kind of boy she got in what, how he warped her mind, perhaps since she was so small, she was stolen away. It only made his blood boil thinking about it, and yet, if Siren cannot fend for herself, then she deserves her fate. He huffed out, nose twitching as conflict and emotional battle raged on in the void of his heart.

Only when the voice of Raven carried through his den, did his thoughts come racing back to reality. It felt as thought his mind was whipped back into place, as if he returned to see through his eyes once more. Ah yes, Raven. She had traveled far and wide in gathering information. She is still young, at the age of two, but that does not mean she is without worth. In fact, the innocent youth may have luck others would not. It was hard to rip himself from Lillith's bones. He inhaled one last time before he exited the darkness of his den only to be greeted by the sight of a dead badger.

It then dawned on him that there was a hunger in his belly. His eyes fixated on the badger, his breath inhaling sharply as he looked at Raven. A gift, perhaps, and a good idea indeed.

"Stay, talk, if you so wish," he stated, his voice much more flat than before, lacking that natural passion he usually had. There is a downcast in his gaze, a touch of sorrow that perhaps peeked through the anger that rippled through his muscles at times. He reached down, his teeth coming to rip into the flesh of the badger, to eat as he has not eaten in a while. It was a simple gift from Raven, but a gift he would remember. The gift of food when he was down, no, it was never to be forgotten, and so he ate so gently, so carefully, and so unusually...