Hideaway Strath it's not where i reside

AW but hoping for @Vein or @Kynareth Deagon :) (being vague about stuff with Dragomir since I don't know what's going on with that but 0.0)

The Priestess had never considered this, that things would change in such a drastic manner. She had known to expect alterations to life as she knew it with a new baby, of course, but in her mind -- which was perhaps still too naïve for her own good -- she had expected things to change for the better. Sure, there would be sleepless nights and colic and teething and the endless guilt of feeling like she wasn't doing anything right, but Aerin had thought this might be a second chance at the family she should have -- a happy ending of sorts after so many years of horror and grief.

She was wrong. Utterly so.

Yes, there had been all those things (or there would be in the future if they hadn't occurred already) but life had changed in an entirely new way that she hadn't seen coming -- and it wasn't a good one. Outside of Momotzli, Vein had begun to change. At first, the sighthound had dismissed it, thinking that it was just the pressure of being a new father. But Momo was nearly old enough to count three moons and still, he hardly saw their daughter unless it was at night, when he returned to their den to sleep. Even then, he sometimes came after his wife and child had already dozed off or just didn't come home at all. Their pup, young as she was, knew. She asked for Tahtli less, got less and less excited to see him when he did turn up, and she'd even begun to withdraw into herself -- preferring to wander and keep her own company rather than try to interact with the other Saints. On the few occasions she'd suggested they go meet another pack mate like @Nyra or @Simmik and maybe play with some of the other children, the gilded chimera clammed up and would beg to go play in the woods with wide, fearful eyes that tore at her mother's heartstrings -- and usually ensured that she relented.

Recently, however, The Priestess had stopped making such suggestions. She didn't know much of what had occurred with the dark boy Donav had drug across their borders but she had heard enough from Vein's addled mouth and the others.

Kynareth had always claimed to be a monster. She'd just never believed him. How could she when he had always been so gentle with her? She had known monsters; hell, she was raised by monsters. And Donav, he could never be one, not in her eyes. Or so she thought until he turned on an innocent man. Now?

Now, she didn't know what to think.

She had begun to withdraw as her daughter did, avoiding the rest of the monsters and wondering if somewhere, somehow, she had become one too. What else could she be if she stood by idly as such a thing occurred?

Maybe there was more to it. Maybe he had committed some crime against the Saints that she was unaware of. But maybes had never brought her any peace of mind.

Instead, the sighthound began to wither. Weight dropped from her svelte frame and bones became prominent. Sleep evaded her, no longer drinking the draughts that her mate occasionally remembered to bring home with him, even with Momo snuggled in her arms. Most nights, she spent the hours staring down at her daughter's split face of sunlight and moonlight -- fighting the urge to gather the sleeping tot in her jaws and flee this place entirely. Or else, the abject feeling of being so alone would tear at her chest with eagle talons until she wept -- silently, taking care not to disturb her daughter's dreams with her ragged breaths and pitiful sniffles as the despair wracked her body with stifled sobs.

When the morning came and found her with fur crusted with the salt of dried tears, Aerin simply couldn't muster the energy to do anything productive. Instead, she scooped Momo up with a small, reassuring rumble. Rather than leave the Strath as her heart was screaming for her to do, she turned towards the Ravine that had given them their name, setting off at a lope.

The mother and daughter duo wound up sunning themselves on the terrace outside one of the caves -- the pale doe tugging the child to lay between her paws so the scarred sylph could preen her coat clean needlessly, trying to shut off her anxiety and soothe her frayed nerves by cradling her child close.

She almost didn't notice Kynareth. Almost. A word that seemed to describe them well.

There was a time when she would have given anything for his attention, for those golden orbs to be shining down on her the way the sun catches in her daughter's coat as it plays across the trio of wolfdogs. But now, as he sidles up with that same careless grin that used to charm her, she feels something sick twist in her gut -- wondering if it was the last thing that poor boy saw, if there was any reason at all to what her former flame had done.

She wants to turn away, tug her child back into shadows, beg him to go and just leave them be. But the rich baritone of his voice is so sweet, those gold coins shining with so much concern. And damn her, she hasn't received any sort of positive male attention in what feels like forever. She crumbles right then and there, nearly bursting into tears.

But even so, she can't find it in her to voice her true concerns -- heavy moonstones searching him as she offers him only a tired, wan smile. "I'm just tired, Donav."