Sila

i can feel the thunder that’s breaking in your heart

She is of two hearts and two minds; so badly she wishes to celebrate her brother's children and their mother's joy and yet, she knows well that her mother's joy stems from her knowledge that her time is coming to its close. Perhaps her siblings hope to simply ignore it, or to put it in the back of their minds, and yet Sila is unable to; she leaves food for her mother but some days, she finds it untouched or buried, as if she is hiding her appetite from Sila's careful watch. Other days, she keeps watch at a distance, almost too afraid to peel her eyes away lest her mother's time basking becomes her final moment in the sun. It is grueling work and sometimes, she feels alone. Never has she met another wolf who has watched their parents both age out of their lives. Wolves die all the time, she thinks, but what is worse - the sudden grief or a grief that lingers for years before death even comes? She dares not ask the question. Instead, she tries to find comfort where she can.

Yet sometimes, she still finds herself drifting mindlessly. It is strange, she thinks, to be so focused inwards while she ought to be focused on the pack - there are mothers, she knows, and children now that she ought to be tending to. Yet, she cannot bring herself to do so. She thinks only of her mother in those moments - each hunt, each expedition to gather roots and leaves, she thinks only of desperately trying to keep her mother in her sights for longer. She knew it was futile but what else was there? Who else was there?

The wolf had entered her mind with surprising ease; she thinks of Samus as she moves by the borders and for some time, she pauses as she stares deep into the forest. She gives one wistful look over her shoulder with a sad whine, guilty almost for leaving her mother for the evening, but she sees the familiar glow begin - not the sun, no, but the fireflies. And so she moves through the trees, weaving as one of the slower fireflies seems to linger just ahead of her, as if leading her down the narrow paths. "Father," she addresses the insect without second thought, "when mother joins you, will you keep her safe? I don't know what it's like where you are but...well, if you could make sure the den is ready for her, I'll owe you a debt." It's a weak smile but a smile nonetheless as the firefly flickers and glows, dancing closer towards her as if to kiss her forehead.

She holds her breath and for a moment, she thinks her father has spoken back: her throat catches as her voice whispers from behind and she stumbles back a step, the firefly darting away with a zigzag of panic. She pivots suddenly, almost tangling up her own legs, as she spins to face Samus, mouth slightly agape and heart pounding. "Samus!"

Her tail waves behind her, utter joy, yet there is an unmistakable sadness in her eyes that tries to reach her lips - but she fights it back. "Was the pack too loud for you, too?" Though the pack had been quiet, she knew Samus would understand: sometimes it was that nothingness that was the loudest. Static was still noise, after all.