Sunbeam Lair the wheezing cough of a smoker’s laugh

In the darkness, she was torn apart.

Brought to her very foundations, and found them cracked into unrecognizable form. 

Sometimes, she thought she heard voices, but she lived in the crevasses of shadow and pockets of deep darkness, and she did not breath a sound. There was nothing anyone could do to find her there, eyes glinting, poised like a rattlesnake in the dark places where rabbits hid. 

She heard someone describe her as a rat, once. Vermin, to be snuffed out with teeth in her throat. Too much coyote to ever be a wolf. The creature that once was would have balked at that, tried to correct it with words.

The creature that is, well, she didn’t care. So long as they stayed away, she would continue living in those small spaces, with her small gods and her small life in the scheme of a thousand others.

Broken glass in the shape of something moved with a curve through the dark, lit only by the knowing moon above, and by the mist and fog that pushed about her paws. It was there that she mixed medicine, pressing it onto her paws and her face, slathering it on her tail, what remained of it. The bone no longer shone in its crisp, bloody white, covered by an aching scab that broke and oozed blood if she moved too fast. Her body ached and was sore to the touch, but she did not feel it.

The knife’s edge in the dark, the rattlesnake slipped out from the cavern and into the misting night, staying in her shadow, to watch the moon hang in the sky, and wonder, for just a moment, where the faces she knew had gone. It occurred to her that she had not spoken in days, had not seen another creature besides the small ones in her small spaces with their even smaller lives, but this occurrence was unimportant. Unneeded.

Unnecessary.

Broken. Numb. Battered. Working on auto pilot. That was how he felt. Mixed in with the agony of a thousand deaths, none of which were his. Even though he had begged like a child to be free of the constraints of the mortal coil one too many times. Then he had started to get his life back together, started to build a new life a new way. And his brain had fractured, shattered. Left the pieces of holy saints glass all over the ground, the stained glass glinting like venomous vipers with all the colors of the rainbow.

it was in this mind set that he found, the girl. Young and slinky. Broken and busted, though her ailments were of the physical kind not the emotional at least that he could see. But anyone who knew what wounds could do would know that she probably wasn't okay mentally either. He chuffed gently at her and stood studying the moon above them with keen blue eyes.

The night sky was where Phox felt most at ease. Sure, sunshine was nice for warmth and seeing the world, but there was a whole other world hanging above them half of their lives, and many creatures slept right through it, never bothering to look up and really see what was there. Phox, on the other hand, had always been a little bit obsessed with the sparkly dots of light that returned night after night.

In fact, he'd spent a good chunk of his life dreaming up and retelling any stories he could get his grubby paws on. They were always a little bit dramatic, and he never told exactly the same story twice, but they always had the same themes associated with them. A little lesson to be learned by each constellation.

He'd wandered away from Epoch tonight, his three-legged gait pulling him south a ways. He wouldn't go far, of course, since he'd only just reunited with Towhee, but he also didn't want to remain a complete homebody. After his near-death experience, he wanted to live life to the fullest even more now than he had before.

Movement caught his eye, and he saw a skinny little thing pop out from a cavern into the night. Immediately following that, he saw Reyson approach her. If they noticed him, he'd come up and say hello, but for now he hung back, wondering if this was why Meadow and Reyson were having relationship woes. Did Reyson often go seeking out other women?

The approach was noted with a clinical, unemotional eye, but the chuff was what made her move. Curling in on herself, twisting to face the man who chuffed with the barest flash of a pale fang.

It wasn’t that she had completely forgotten how to be around others, but the dark had warped it, had turned her into the barest hint of a creature. And as her eyes found the second dark shape, it only solidified her mind that these two wolves were pest control, and she the unfortunate roach.

She skittered back a step, pressing her shoulder to a rock face, doing everything short of hissing like a snake. Her ears twisted and flattened back. This wasn’t the Gang, she knew all of those faces. This was someone else, someone new. Lonesome had come to not enjoy somethings or someones new. Were these the “crick wolves” Colt and Sadey spoke of? Neither of these two were red, so neither of them was Red (though, she noted, Red had also been described as “the girl” and these men were neither feminine, nor young enough to be called girl. Scratch that off the list). And neither of them were Reno or Marston.

Strangers. She didn’t like strangers.

Reyson immediately backed up. His own gaze came to the male behind him and he studied his shape.

Phox? He called out to the other male, while he retreated further. Blue eyes assessing the threat that was not very real. He made it to stand beside the male, giving the girl enough of a cushion could she run if she pleased.

Do you know her? I came upon her and she looks hurt pretty bad. His voice a low whisper.

He looked back to the girl a frown on his face. I'm Reyson this is Phox. Are you hurt do you need assistance?

The skinny thing didn't seem terribly pleased with their presence, and she reminded Phox of a very, very old name he hadn't thought about in quite some time: Camilla. She had given him his first step into fatherhood, and a taste of what it was like to love romantically. Their relationship had been complicated on an entirely different level compared to his relationship with Niamh.

No, I don't know her, Phox replied in an equally hushed whisper, peering at her. He wondered if Reyson had ever met up with Meadow, or if she was still giving him the cold shoulder. Maybe that wasn't where his head was supposed to be right now, but Phox couldn't help himself.

Yeah, you okay? Need anything? Do you have friends nearby who can help you? he asked.

The one closest moved back several steps, and her lip fell to cover her teeth again. The wary, harsh feeling that curled through her was still there, but the added space was good for her.

They spoke, but she did not answer, eyes flicking between the two of them. These people could know of the Gang, if the crick wolves had spoken of them to others, so it wasn’t safe to push her luck. Again, snap did her eyes from man to man.

Sawbones.

It was a deadly rattle, the hiss of a rattlesnake, but she made no move closer.

But she made no move to leave.

Friends…gone. Separated by snow. They are gone. She knew, in her hindbrain, that she would find them. She had to, when the summer sun would turn her to a puddle. She would find them before the snow came back.

The space at least gave her a moment of reprieve. He didn't know what else to do, so he waited.

She was clearly on edge, a breath away from losing her mind. Reyson knew that it was possible she would attack and ask questions later. She was like a cornered animal.

Her name was not one he knew. It was a strange one and he would wager it was not her true name, but that was not his concern.

Ears tilted forward at her words. Do you want some help for your wounds? I'm sorry about your friends.

If he had known what Phox was thinking he may have had some cold words for him.

Sawbones.

What was that supposed to mean? Color Phox intrigued, if a little bit wigged out. It seemed like she was a bit... maybe not all there. Her words came out broken, her sentences not quite formed. How long had she been on her own, he wondered.

Reyson seemed intent on mending her, but Phox wasn't entirely convinced she was interested in that. She seemed rather standoffish in his opinion. Maybe we should leave her be? he said to Reyson under his breath. Doesn't seem terribly receptive to a helping hand.

She just stood there and allowed the men to make their judgments.

Did…she need help?

No. She didn’t. The creature didn’t need touch of another. She was all she’d needed (a lie that tasted like ash on her tongue) and she flicked the half of her tail. She shuffled.

The creature that once was smiled a rattlesnake’s smile.

No, thank you. She said as politely as possible, before she preformed a quick turn and vanished into her shadows. Back to her small spaces, small gods, and small lives.

She’d never felt smaller.

Reyson sighed. We probably should, but Meadow kick my ass if i Didn't ask. And Meadow would have. Had he not offered aid to someone hurt and down on their luck, his healer probably would have ripped him a new asshole and boxed his ears.

Though before he could say anything the girl moved, said no thank you and vanished. Reyson shrugged. WEll I guess that answers that. Shall we?

He motioned to the other male the way they had come.

She (politely) refused, and Phox watched as she retreated back to the cavern. Reyson brought up Meadow, and Phox mostly ignored the sentiment. He had a feeling Meadow might also kick his ass for going around trying to seduce random injured women. But who was Phox to say?

I'm heading that way, Phox said, gesturing the opposite direction from where Reyson looked like he was going. It wasn't that he actually had a plan, it was simply that Phox wasn't really in the "let's be best friends" mood with somebody he barely knew. He had come out here tonight to be with the sky, not Reyson.

Besides, he thought it might be a nice gesture if he could manage to catch something and leave it at the entrance of the cave for the strange skinny beast. He had a feeling she wouldn't reject such a thing, so long as he left it for her to find, rather than shoving it in her face.