Noctisardor Bypass the system of doctor tarr and professor fether

forward dated to tomorrow. referencing the body drop-off indicated here

her heat is waning, and with it, her lust.

she thinks of @Sequoia, and the news the dappled woman had brought. perhaps now is the time to make good on her promise to lend a paw. Avicus howls to her co-leaders her intent to hunt, and departs.

slowly, she meanders through the valley. the weather is warmer, and her spirits with it—and no doubt her trysts with the men of the Rise have buoyed her confidence as well.

after perhaps a day or so, as dawn breaks, she spies what could be called 'Bypass' that Sequoia had mentioned. and as she draws nearer, a putrid smell begins to prick at her nostrils, only growing stronger with proximity to the territory.

wariness and intrigue together bring her to the scene of a crime.

it's Laurel. her body is bloodied, butchered, left to rot. crows eye Avicus from the periphery, flapping their wings in irritation at being chased off from an easy meal. she ignores them, lowering her muzzle, picking up the scents along the corpse.

her father. her brother, too. 

she must go to Ursus, congratulate them, even though envy burns bright in her belly for not having done the job first.

her indigo gaze is hard and hot as it traces the ruined lines of her aunt's body, the sightless orbs where hateful, crazed eyes had once rested. she had asked for this. she had been mad. and now, she is dead.

Sequoia had not gone near the corpse. She hadn't wanted to see who it was. She couldn't stand the thought of it being Laurel, Druid, Witch, or Jorunn, so she had purposely avoided it. "It could be any wolf," she told herself, but she knew it was likely someone she was close to. So she stayed in the shadows, nursed her leg, and tried to keep on living. She heard nothing from Laurel, Witch, or Druid. It had been days since she had returned, and not a single sign from any of them.

She knew that staying here meant death, but what was the alternative? Living without her daughters would not be like living at all.

The piebald woman inched toward the corpse; she thought it might help her now, but as soon as she spotted somebody there, she backed off, her uneven gait stilted as she attempted to remain out of sight.

Avicus doesn't smell Sequoia on the wind; the body is too ripe for that. she snorts at sight of the ruined woman, and then ducks her head, taking the base of Laurel's tail in her mouth and beginning to shake her head back and forth, tugging.

a souvenir. if Merrick and Aventus will have the satisfaction of job well done, she at least wants a piece of the wolf who'd nearly killed her.

she feels the bones along the spine start to separate, the sinew giving way.

a few more tugs and she will have her prize.

last from me!

She couldn’t take it. When the wolf began to shred the body, Sequoia ran. She ran and ran and ran and ran until she couldn’t run anymore. It was many days and nights, and she was long outside the Teekon Wilds when she finally allowed herself to rest. All the while, she could only see the image and smell the stench in her mind.

The piebald woman would start fresh, far away, away from her sorrows.