Time seems an intangible thing. It always has been, I realize this, but there is no telling how long I lay with my head atop my mothers prone one. My right paw is coated with blood where I had splayed on either side of her face, paw resting against her ravaged neck. I had cried tears onto her, glaring down at her gaping emerald eyes before sobbing more. I felt such an overwhelming hopelessness and urgency. My mind wanted to take care of their bodies but there was no way I could bury them by myself. It smarted to know that I would have to leave my daddy there in the crags with the weasels to pick at his body and the buffalos to trample, to finish the work they started. Even worse to see that a wolf had killed my mother, the Empress, the strongest woman I had ever seen. How?

More than that is my fear because I can smell him on the border. I don't know who this interloper is but I know, intrinsicly, that to enter Iromar would be to seal a death sentance for myself. Right now, at least, and with that thought I feared desperatly for Lazarus. If that wolf hurt him... I feel the start of my red hot rage in my chest but it dies just as soon as it begins to blossom because I look down again at the ravaged body of Aithne. The Dragonslayer. I was going to kill an alligator when I was older enough to prove to her I was ready to be Empress. Now... Empress didn't seem like the kind of mantle I wanted.

Eventually the day grows long and the shadows even longer. I finally push my weak body to a stand, swaying and trying to stretch out the stiffness of my limbs. "I...." my voice falters and I breath deep, trying to calm myself. "I got to go, mom. I'll protect him, I promise. I'll find him and I'll get him safe." I whisper my promise to my mothers form, knowing somehow she wouldn't be so worried about me but about Lazarus, my brother who has never been strong of will or body but was beloved by us all.

I walk away from her body then, my steps stilted and my gait jolting, but I find myself hours later sitting on the banks of the Aplos as the moon rises in the sky. The river has dwindled considerably with the drought and there is no telling how many creatures have passed by me as I sat here, wilted, staring down at the water but seeing only memories. My shoulders are hunched, head low, ears drooping, but I don't cry. I don't think I have anymore tears left.