Blacktail Deer Plateau i surrendered to their fragrance

backdated to the sixteenth. @Astara to post first plz. tagging @Vercingetorix & @Aurëwenn; @Dragomir for visibility

a more sane person might have immediately removed themselves from the area of such a crime, but we have established, dear reader, that merrick was the opposite of such. 
and so he lingered near, the damned mountain from which he had thrown the boy rearing at his back as the inviting scent of a pine forest wreathed forth, and he went with his shadow to explore its recesses.
in truth, the memory of all they had done in the cave had been drowned by the anticipation of meeting his mother once more, and presently he turned his burning eyes upon astara, showering her with gestures of something as akin to love as merrick might ever come.

they did not flee their abode of crime; instead, they lingered. astara knew little of fear — her entire life had shaped her to such ignorant confidence, and so she moved among the shadowed boles with an ease to her step, one which defied the severity of their iniquitous coup. 

she was certain the boy rotted on the stony lip where he had fell, and she cared little of him after that. 

in her mind the boy was dead, no more important than the thousands of dead that left this world. astara was no more repentant than merrick, her shadow-leader and companion. glancing upon him with a roving gaze astara nibbled briefly across his nape, and then turned her sights quietly to the sullen forest — which for now was dimly quiet.

he entered and was immersed in shadow, presumably flanked by his beloved shadow. merrick realized in that moment, his skin atingle from her earlier touch, that he had become dependent upon the girl’s familiarity with him, in a way he had not with tadec or indra or even nunataq.
his consciousness balked at the notion; impulsively merrick considered rounding upon the dark seraph and cutting her throat with a careful snap, but the dire thought passed as quickly as it had come.
she was his and he hers and until that sense of belonging ended, merrick would long for her to stay beside him. the boy put his muzzle to the ground in silence, a sense of contentment settling over him.

astara’s blood would have curdled to learn that merrick had briefly considered she his next prey; if even for an instant. she picked up none of his internal warring, instead focusing her gaze elsewhere. the flutter of wings had drawn her attention away, though her limbs remained rooted. 

she too felt serenity overcome her; some time later, her blood would stir and demand disruption to this tranquility — but for now astara padded silently after merrick, gaze ever flitting from shadow to shadow in marked observance.

no thing nor monster darted from the shadows to accost them; merrick soon grew bored of the darkness and moved into a clearing drenched with sunglow. here he cast himself down in the grass, writhing with some excess of passion against it. astara was given a fond look; how had he ever lived without her?
and silent though she was, and silent though he was content to be with her, merrick's lips curved in a true smile. "i love you," he whispered from where he lay in the glade, having grown quite still as his eyes roved with a lover's gleam over her impassive features.

astara's focus had been ahead, and so, she had not caught the shift of merrick's gaze to softness, or seen the way his eyes gently passed over her. it was not until he spoke -- words more halting than any obscenity -- that astara turned around, her expression caught in quiet surprise.

not since her sister or dam had astara heard those words, and even then only sparingly. she had no means to return that sacred utterance, and instead purposefully stepped to merrick, her indigo gaze possessive. she slunk to the ground besides him, pulled her muzzle down towards and across his bladed shoulders. her teeth bared yet gentle, drew across his sunlit fur in preening. with her chest pressed to her kill-brother's body, astara's language was clear: mine.