Noctisardor Bypass shela

tiny optional pup + mom meeting, small/single replies welcome, PPing artie & averie <3

heda wasn't sure how to tell the children that druid wasn't coming back. in truth, she often forced herself to imagine her sister returning up the path, and such dreamings took enough mental energy.
but, she reminded herself, the time would come, and soon. she couldn't let them grow up thinking that druid had abandoned them.
as the sun tipped the high canopies in gold, heda gathered @Artio, @Goldfinch, @Averie, @Kikimora, @Ezra, and @Gideon at the rendezvous. she brought them sweet berries and more honey; she gave them each a flower and she smiled as they turned their faces toward her.
"your mama druid loves you so much," heda began, trying only to hold what her sister had said in her mind as long as she could. "she got sick and she had to — to go away. so no one else would get sick. she's sorry she had to leave without saying goodbye," heda managed, but not before a single tear snuck its way onto her face. "ah — she said she's going to try everything she can to come back, but — but if she doesn't, you're very loved."
stricken, terrified of their reaction, the lone den mother searched their eyes, trying to remain strong as her own heart broke again, and again, and again.

Her mother's frequent absences were little more than a fact of life to Goldfinch by now. Still, some part of her felt forever waiting; breath held, locked in place, watchful eyes turned toward the horizon at every distant rustling of the undergrowth. Each morning she searched for her mother among the yawning faces of her family. Each night she listened for those familiar footsteps.

And on this morning there were berries and honey. Flowers. No sign of her grey-cloaked mother. Goldfinch pulled her flower closer, paw curling over it possessively. She watched Heda even more closely. Something was off, she realized in the moment before Heda spoke. Something was wrong. The fur along Goldfinch's spine lifted almost imperceptibly — but her familiar felt the shift. It fluttered up into the air, abandoning its perch between her shoulder blades, and let out a sharp distressed call.

Goldfinch went very still as Heda spoke. Her toes flexed and tightened, crushing the flower into the dirt. The bird shrieked somewhere above and darted off into the woods. Abruptly, stiffly, Goldfinch stood, eyes glassy with unshed tears.

Wordlessly she turned, following her familiar into the shelter of the trees.

ezra adopts a quiet and stillness that befit an acolyte in the hallowed halls of sacrosanct ground; saintlike. the weight of grief that he feels: not just for himself but for his den mates and his mother, feels heavy. older than the three month old who bore it.

like it was a taste of something long ago forgotten, tucked away in the cobwebbed recesses of a darkened library corner.

he draws in a quiet breath as goldfinch is the first to react, gaze following her until she vanished out of sight.