Oh god, oh god, oh god! I chant the words over and over in my head, along with the word papa! They had MURDERED him! MURDER! That word should not even exist, nor did it fully explain what they had done, how they had crept upon them in the dead of night. Even now the blades of grass seemed to cut into my red paw-pads for the frost of the night was unforgiving. I had planned to make sure papa ate and that we could curl up in some abandoned den if Enderly did not feel we could complete our trip tonight.
But now... now... I wished we had never stopped. I wish I had badgered him to keep moving even when he said he was tired, when he groused that his joints hurt. I can hardly see as I run in the dark. The gash across my right eye has clotted a bit but the tears burn as they keep coming, the salt pressing into the jagged wound, but my lungs, oh they ACHE. I can't breath, not really, and I can't feel my feet anymore. I know that they are sore from the way my brother - ACH! Heathen! - my ENEMY threw me across the ground so many times. His mark forever on me, the back of my neck still smarting from his clenched jaw. I don't know if I am bleeding there because I can't... I can't stop hearing Enderly's gurgles and his whimpers.
A whine bursts from me as I run, so close to falling flat on my face. I had felt sadness at Maddox's death but he had protected me and the cougar was doing what a cougar did. This was NOT natural. This was cruel and inhumane and all my innocence was finally shattered. I finally realize that my surroundings have changed, that the air is more dusty despite the fall chill. Diveen... I am home! I come to a sudden stop, panting with my tongue out the side of my mouth as I look about desperatly trying to figure out where I am, and when I finally realize it, I take off like a bolt towards my mother and other fathers den.
"Mama, Papa!" I scream, my words inflected with an accent I had picked up from a group of wolves. Enderly had told me that I couldn't just adopt whatever language I wanted or accent if I wasn't born into it, but I told him I would do as I please. The closer I draw, the deeper the tears seem to run, until I am blind once more, stumbling towards the gaping hole that might be our den, might not. "Mama, Papa!" I whine among my tears, desperate to tell them, to bury my muzzle into their chests.