As Viora joined me, my eyes were quick to notice the new scars that adorned her face. Questions immediately surfaced in my mind, a desire to know what had happened to her and who had done this to her. Somewhere in the back of my mind there was a prickle, wondering if she had found the wolf who had murdered her mother and taken vengeance upon her. We moved forward, leaving the clearing of the gathering and following a trail that was wide enough for us to walk side by side. I asked of what news she had to share with me, and it was quickly becoming apparent that this would not be good tidings. Something had happened, and it was likely something bad.
The name that came to Viora's lips was the last I had expected to hear, her impatience for the girl a thing that had been plain from the first day they had come to call Spirane home. A sense of foreboding washed over me, knowing this would not end well, but praying that this recounting would not go the way that I knew it had to. Despite the rough exterior of the mountain's Spider, I looked to her as she spoke and I could feel her disdain for what had transpired. Fjallraven had succumbed to whatever illness had riddled her body. I was not ashamed of the sorrow that entered my gaze, and a heavy, morose sigh escaped my lips as I nodded to affirm my understanding. Sorcha, dead. Fjallraven, dead. Where would the losses end? And why, why was it always the good ones? Fjall had been young, and so pure, so very light in every sense of the word.
It was Viora's next words, however, that seemed to be the truly grave news of this report. Magnus went mad. I listened carefully to what she said as we paused, the gravity of the situation not lost on me. So he had been the one to impart such wounds upon the shewolf? The only wolf that I had truly known well that had lost his imprint was my father, and he had refused to truly lose her. He'd died with her, despite the health of his body, his mind and heart would not go on without her. Perhaps it had been the opposite for Magnus - perhaps he had been willing to fight death itself if it meant keeping the one bound to his soul alive.
Clearly she had brought this information to me for a reason, more than simply sharing the news of the death of a pack mate. Magnus was the true concern in this conversation, for nothing could be done but to honor Fjallraven's life and wish her farewell in some way. Was Magnus still unstable, or had he recovered to some extent. These were the things I needed to know.