Dawnlark Plains in the blink of an eye

everything had changed between this sunrise and the last. the world had shifted, colors dimmed a bit. grayday was dead, and with him, the morningside aditya had come to know. it would never be the same, he knew that, and he grappled with that feeling now, watching the dark velvet night brighten to pastel as the sun burst over the horizon, a magnificent orange orb. his golden eyes reflected the light like tongues of flame--two small burning candles, in vigil for his father-in-law.

aditya hadn't been able to sleep much last night, instead staying close to catori's whelping den, where he'd spent most of his time lately. he watched the stars shift and travel across the sky, wondering if some stargazers' theories were true: that the silvery pinpricks were the spirits of the deceased. which one was grayday's, if so? there were millions.

he felt more comfort in his own beliefs, that grayday's soul would be born again into another, whether wolf or other creature. an endless cycle of rebirth, until one great existence catapulted you into bliss forever. maybe grayday had achieved that. he had lived a wonderful life as a brave and kind family man, after all. either way, his physical suffering had ended, and any emotional torment he had faced was gone.

but he'd left them behind to deal with it. however much grief aditya felt in this moment, he knew it paled in comparison to what his mate and her siblings were feeling, as well as catori and shale. padding a short distance away from the den, so as not to disturb anyone in there, he gave a soft, lilting call to @Dawn, hoping to give her his love in this incredibly difficult time.

her throat was raw, her dirges having ripped from her throat that previous evening and set lose her grief from where she'd tried to keep it tucked away. there was still a feeling of detachment that lingered, had her wonder, as Shale had, just when she'd wake up. she could still hear the echo of them in the trees and sky and water, where surely her grief would linger for seasons to come. 

she'd never thought much about death, about beliefs. one day you were here and the next not, as had happened to Steady. but death, true death, had seemed so far removed from her, her family. and here it was, ugly in its darkness, having crossed their borders and taken one of their own. 

she'd grown tired of being strong in that last day, for Cat and for Sunny, and when Adi called for her she answered with a single raspy call. she found him easily, wasting no more strength in standing and moving to collapse at his side, scrapped out and hollow. her gaze blinked shut and wished only for the darkness of sleep to sweep her away, but the constant hum of loss kept it well at bay.

she came fairly quickly and melted into his side, closing her eyes. her voice sounded raw; he wondered how long she'd been sobbing, and if so, where--he hadn't heard it. dawn was so adept at holding back emotion: it made her an effective leader, but it also led to her backing it up, having it finally crash down upon her, as he'd seen a couple of times. this was one time where he didn't blame her in the least for finally breaking down.

he curled around her, a soothing croon in his throat, almost like a purr. he rested his chin on her forehead, letting her bury her muzzle into his chest if she wanted to. every word of advice grayday had ever given him regarding his daughter echoed through aditya's mind, the familiar drawl both a comfort and yet, teeth sank deep into his heart--he'd never hear it aloud again.

"have you slept?" adi murmured, his own eyelids drooping. grief had a way of ripping into you, taking all your energy until it left you a trembling husk. but before that came restlessness, and denial. shale had kept close to the body; aditya had heard his strangled screams into the night. when he'd gone to check, just before sunrise, the man was staring at his brother, eyes hollow. a husk.

she was empty. it was as if grief had burned in her like a fire when she'd pushed it down, and when she'd sang it into the night, she too had sang out all the ash of it and everything else. but like the smallest tendrils of green after a forest fire, already did she begin to rebuild, to find solace in Aditya. stil, it took her a moment to reply, for those strands to unfi=url their leaves and deepen their roots. 

"no."  her voice was coarse and raspy, sounding alien even to her own ears. she tried again, but it made no difference, the sound whittled down by the events of last night. she blinked her gaze open, staring somewhere off into the distance. "I don't know - how."  her tone made it apparent that she spoke not of sleep, but of how she would go on. 

their ranks were consumed by grief, with three mothers, fading hunters, and a yawning empty void where her father had stood. her trip with Adi suddenly seemed so frivolous, so wrong, and the future yawned, as big a void as her father's passing.

it didn't take a genius to figure out that dawn hadn't slept, but the question had came anyway, more as a formality than anything. still, at her negative response, he cuddled closer, wrapping his long tail around her haunches. he wanted so badly for her to find rest in his embrace; it was a longshot, but he would stay here as long as she needed. he would hold her through any slumber that came.

"no one knows," aditya responded softly, also not speaking of sleep. "you just. . .do." catori, shale, the pups. . .they just would. nobody had a strict plan for moving on, but it happened--it had to happen, out of necessity. no amount of wishing brought the dead back.

he thought of his mother. just weaned, he'd gone to sleep under the watchful eye of his uncle, his mother promising to return as soon as possible. going for a hunt, she'd said. but hadn't returned. despite her apparition that visited him in dreams, aditya had never gotten closure on whether she had truly succumbed to some terrible fate that day--or had left him. he woke up and she was gone.

"your mother is gone," vishal had said, voice choked with emotion. gone, not dead. he wondered whether his uncle had crafted that message so to soften the blow, or if she truly had just. . .left. he'd never seen a body. vishal. just a few moons later, adi had found his body, cold and stiff. much like grayday's, at peace, like he'd gone in his sleep. he never knew--never would know--what took him.

aditya hadn't known how to go on, and if anyone asked him now, he still wouldn't have an answer. he didn't know how he'd move on from this monumental loss, either. he was always so full of words and advice for his mate, but now, he came up utterly empty.

as the grief ebbed and flowed, so much like the ocean that had inspired so much wonder in the Morningside, the pain of the wounds Sunny'd left scattered in her pelt throbbed. she could not begin to process it all now, what he'd said and done, what she'd done. "Shale's mad. he's angry, and - he thought Da was going to wake up. I didn't know what to do, not really, and - Kitten, she saw. Sunny. He attacked me, exploded, I - he's gone. I told him to go." 

the words felt thick and heavy as they left her maw, and the breath left her in a sigh that seemed to empty out her lungs. it took her a moment to speak again, and when she did, the words were small. "I'm tired, Adi."  again her gaze flickered closed, finding comfort only when her chest began to heave and silent sobs escaped her, breath coming quick and irregularly. besides her dirges, she had not allowed the grief to spill over all day; and it the comfort of Aditya's embrace did she unravel, grief at Day and Sunny and Shale, at all her shortcomings.

it was then, at her mention of a fight, that he noticed the half-dried blood that coated her tail; he'd been so distracted by everything that had happened--not to mention his own memories of death--that it had slipped right past him. shocked, adi pulled her closer still, making gentle sounds under his breath as she spoke. i'm tired, adi. and she began to sob.

"i know, mera jaan," aditya whispered, letting her cry. "i know." her grief was the stormy sea and he the cliffs; it smashed against him but he stood strong, despite little bits falling off here and there. it would take a lot to whittle him down to nothing, and he felt no shame in knowing he was stronger than she was at this point. it wasn't anything he'd wave in her face: he'd use it to help her, heal her, ride out this storm with her until she came out the other side.

it burned; her breath down her tight throat, the sporadic movements of her lungs. but it was as if it flowed from her then, finally, until she felt scrapped clean of it and exhaustion finally blurred the edges of her vision. she pulled in air, pausing, slowing, until her silent anguish slowed and stopped, finally, when she closed her eyes and the tension she hadn't even been away of holding dissipated. 

sleep came fairly quickly after that, sweet and empty. she wasn't aware exactly when it happened, nor how, but some part was grateful as she succumbed finally to overwhelming exhaustion, of both the mental and physical sort.

finally, finally, she exhausted herself enough to sleep; her ragged breaths grew calm, her body quiet and still--but not stiff, like her father's had been. no, warm, and springy, and full of life. life. . .and he was incredibly grateful to hold her here against him, still breathing, still living. both of them. they would survive this.

gently, so as not to wake her, he cradled his cheek between her shoulder blades, neck draped over hers. aditya closed his eyes, and he found sleep not too far away for him as well. it had been a long day, the longest day he could remember, but it was finally coming to an end. on the other side of this slumber was a new chapter, a fresh start. grayday was gone, but he lived on--though his pack, through his family.

the sun rose high over the sleeping couple, entwined together, fur gleaming gold and brown, black and silver, a muddle of earth and rock.