she had never wanted to come back here.
she didn't think she would have, especially not now. when she left the bypass in her fit of resentment and anguish, she took time to collect herself; unbeknownst to her sister's search for her, she hunted what sparse prey was on offer to a yearling, moved with the flocks of birds and the temperate, salty air that blew in from the coast. it was freeing to be alone, responsible for no one. she'd never been alone! this was what she wanted!
she had the freedom to go anywhere, and yet here she was.
when she comes across the landbridge with the familiar silhouette of the island's shape off the coast, at first, she is filled with nostalgia. she sees simeon's face in her mind, hears his boisterous laugh as he splashes her with the current. mama sits with the brooding twins, one silently judging, the other curious but afraid; mama's eyes crinkle at the edges as she hums a soft hymn. gramma rests her aging bones on the beach, watching the tiny crabs and big brother psalm; john is there, too, and so is uncle everett, and — daddy.
the vividness of her vision fades to a dull monochrome as her feet touch the sand for the first time in half a year.
this place is so alien. it's nothing like she remembers — the trees are all the same, the tall sequoias bursting with greenery and the newly budding lavender, the smell of the salt and the loveliness of the hills —
but it is desolate. eerily so. the clouds hang low in the sky, and everything feels smaller than it used to. quieter. emptier. the lack of her family's scent fills her heart with a dread she had expected, but had not been entirely prepared for. she almost hoped it all would have been a dream, some awful, awful dream —
but then
as the tears sting her eyes and her head hangs between her elbows, she smells
something, someone
she almost vomits with how quickly the surge of adrenaline flows through her body. it's fake, her body is mistaking her, it must be, but it isn't and she realizes it as she draws closer to the lavender field, closer to the greenhills, closer to the mound of dirt now overgrown with fresh seagrass
oh my god
she can't see or hear him just yet, there is hardly even a speck of proof, but it is there! that tiny, tiny sliver of hope that she might find —

@Judah?

running. she is running, frantically clinging to that scent that had once been washed away. she says his name over and over, her calls turning from questions to answers.
when she sees him, her heart drops into her stomach. she almost doesn't recognize him, but through the veil of tangled hair and seaswept frame, she sees the pair of mismatched eyes which were unmistakeably his.
she freezes. her lips part to speak again, but then, before she can —
he thinks she is daddy.
a garbled, wordless cry seeps from her throat. dejected, she almost turns to walk away, to leave her brother in peace and let him forget her. but she can't.
juju, dinah sobs, knees trembling and almost giving out beneath her. it's me, it's dinah. it's-- daddy is gone.
i thought you were, too, and maybe you still are.

dinah.
she watches as the realization comes to him, slowly before it crashes down upon him all at once. and dinah too felt something similar, seeing him move — crawl — to her, his wobbling, aged voice.
she is the one who breaks the distance, crashing into him and sweeping him into the tightest embrace she can muster. he is taller than her now, she realizes, her face buried into the saltbrine ruff of his neck, hot tears soaking them both.
she dissolves, no, breaks; melting into a sunset-colored puddle of mush, squeezing him so hard she fears she may break him.
i thought-- i thought you were dead, she mumble-shouts into his shoulder. i thought you were dead! i th-- her speech falters, shattering into a series of unintelligible blubbering that communicated the overwhelming, all-consuming relief.

oh, judah, the girl picks up the shattered pieces of herself, glues them together as she snivels and peels back to look at the worn face of her beloved littermate. she whimpers at the sight of his torn ears, and realizes now that he had only been holding her with one arm.
i never stopped hoping, juju, she trembles, reaching up to wipe at her cheeks with the back of a wrist. never.
and then came the inevitable question that dinah so fiercely did not want to answer: where is everyone? she swallows hard, settling down into a sit and guiding her brother to do the same beside her. she still hadn't quite gathered that she was, in fact, home, and reality yet again seemed to barrel into her as she glances out at the gently ebbing shore.
with a shaky breath, she begins.
w-we-- after we left to go find gramma, we came back with her to sweetharbor. we'd only been gone for... maybe a week, i think, but, but-- daddy, she stumbles over her own words, eyes squeezing shut as rivulets of tears dribble down her chin yet again. we were too late. h-he killed himself, judah. he went on a bender and refused to-- to eat, or do anything, and by the time we got home there was nothing we could do.
a-and we all thought you were dead. we looked for you for days, and then we found-- we found your foot, she gestures now to the mangled remains of his foreleg. and i couldn't-- i couldn't stay here. mama couldn't either. so we left, we went inland. ava was the only one who came with us. i... i don't know where everyone else went.
her tears are stifled by a hiccup as she reaches out to grab her brother's paw, tracing the veins in his wrist and the warm, calloused pads of his palm. she and ava live with a new pack now. it's called rivenwood, and it's in a place called the bypass. i was there for a while, too, but--
but.
the deep cut of bitter anguish flares up again, and she grits her teeth as the sapphire eyes grow cold. she wonders if judah will have the same reaction she had; she wonders if he will understand. she has new children. two boys.
she replaced us.

if there is one thing worse than grieving a loved one, it's watching your other loved ones grieve.
judah's cries feel as though they cut into dinah's very core, etching into her skin like visible bruises that will never leave. all she can think to do is drop to the ground with him, sweep him up into her arms and hold him. she doesn't reassure him, doesn't tell him that it's okay, because it wasn't, and it never would be — there was nothing she could say that could take away his pain, as horribly as she wished to do so. if there was ever someone who understood that, it was her.
she stays there with him, rocking back and forth the same way daddy used to do when they were kids. she buries her muzzle in between his ears, arms tightly roped around his shoulders.
he calms down enough to get out words she can understand, and a sigh is pushed from her lungs. she won't go, dinah mutters. i-i tried. i didn't want to leave her.
she missed her.
judah, she wipes away ribbons of snot and tears and spit from his face. i don't-- i don't think we should stay here, either. we need to heal. we need-- freedom, and i've found that, her mind wanders to mulherin, and her gaze falls away, dropping to the floor. i want you to come with me. we can go anywhere you want. i won't-- i won't leave you alone again.

what had happened to him to make him think such a way?
it's not all like that, juju, dinah retorts as gently as she can. there are good people. there are places to go, food we can eat, things to see, just-- just trust me.
and sweetharbor won't disappear, she shakes her head, wiping away sand from her brother's chin. we can always come back to it, right? it'll always be here when we need it.
she falls quiet for a long while, watching as a pair of gulls circle over their heads. you belong, judah. you belong with me, you belong-- wherever you want to belong. come to rivenwood with me. we'll-- we'll go see ava, and mama, and you can see how you feel about traveling. i'll take you to all the cool places i saw on my way up here, anything, anything to make him smile again; we'll hunt rabbits, and we'll pick flowers, and we'll sit on top of a mountain and look at the stars, like we used to do.
she wonders how rivenwood has changed since she left. she wonders who exactly will greet them, if anyone will even — the bitter thought is dashed away, forced down with a thick swallow. it'll be good for you. for us. and... if you still hate it, we'll come back.

the last thing i ever told him was to go.
dinah bit back her own tears, letting the sound of the ocean roar over her before she met him with her own whispered response. the last thing i ever said to him was fuck you.
but there's no use holding onto that, she snivels. it's-- things have changed, for better or for worse. a-and, believe me, i was mad about it too, i still am! but... we can't cling to the past. i think i've been trying to teach myself that. that it's okay to let go.
he knows we love him, ju, she cradles the back of his head with a forepaw. he knows you love him. wherever he is now, he's-- he's safe. he's with God.
she closes her eyes, lets the sound of the waves take her back to bright-eyed, gap-toothed bliss before she lets the memory disappear. but i'm not leaving you. no matter what. i promise, pale blue eyes meet mismatched silver and gold. i promise.

no wonder he's dead.
for a second, hurt dashes across her features before she realizes; this is all new to judah. he hadn't been there, hasn't lived with the knowledge for as long as she and mama and ava had. but then, she wonders how long he's been out here by himself, and her heart seizes in her chest again.
she thinks again of mulherin, of the beautiful dark face. what was she going to tell him? she ponders mentioning him to her brother, but as he steadies himself and she sees the way his cheekbones have hollowed and his ears are now shredded, she cannot bring herself to.
she is all he has.
i love you too, she sinks forward to bury herself in his chest. we're gonna be okay. we're gonna figure it out.
as they always did.