He had to wonder, at times, if they had truly meant it when they said Moteuh was dead. After all, she still lived fondly on in his memories, in his own scent and even in the den they had been raised within. He wondered, often, if death had any true finality - they would kill a rabbit but several more would exist in that place the same day. And so, he had to question: had they meant it? Or would she reappear like those rabbits?

But who was he to question anybody about it? They had all been quite assured of its finality and so, he had remained silent on the manner, a facade of acceptance though he snorted in disbelief as their foolishness. But Shem knew. Shem was smart, see, smart enough to keep his mouth closed at the right times and smart enough to know that it would feel better to say I knew it all along then to face his own foolishness. At least, he believed that. It was easier to believe that than to believe his sister was a pile of rotting meat.

He had Asriel though. There were differences between sibling and parent. He felt that way, at least. Asriel was...special, a special something to him and he had spent much time pondering his brother and their future during his time within Taviora. A growing body lead to a growing mind and it had run wild beneath the misery of his mother. Asriel had turned his attention elsewhere though but at least, Shem supposed, it made for an entertaining thing. His brother always seemed to hunt now, always seemed to want to learn more and more. At times, it felt less like Asriel was there and Moteuh was.

But Shem had always been a sneak, always a slip of a thing in the shadows; he followed his brother at a distance, honing his own skills as he watched his brother dive about in the snow. He watched keenly, watched the way his brother's body contorted about. He watched in the same silence as his brother dove just a little too far down and he approached in that same deathly silence.

Then, he had no qualm with reaching out and plucking at his brother's tail, much in the same way he had so many seasons ago. He nipped at it, pulling free a small tuft of fur with a grumble of both greeting and warning. He wanted to see his brother panic just as much as he wanted to see that panic subside when his voice was known. "Are you a fox now, brother?" he called down, his head lowered beside his brother as he stood parallel now, "Shall I let you die as one?" His voice sunk with those words, his eyes wide as he stared ahead with a heavy breath. He seemed to revel in the words for a moment before he laughed, a sudden jovial thing. Just because they had suffered did not mean he had to change so greatly.