Bramblepoint sleep, little darling; do not cry

There was a restlessness within her that spurred her on faster than she intended to travel—as if a deeper, more base instinct knew she would need to be swift to reach her destination. She skirted the edge of the mountains, treaded carefully along the boundary of the desert highlands.

And her thirst grew.

A desperate longing rose up within her as the caldera of Brecheliant rose above the horizon. All she wanted was to see her family again—greet Maia, see how many children she and Eljay now had. Ask after her younger half-siblings.

Lilitu knew, though, the specter of death she could bring to their door. She was too much a danger.

Goodbye, she thought mournfully, as the silver shadow slipped into the cover of Bramblepoint and away from the pack's territory.

She pressed on heedlessly through the brush, brambles raking at her shoulders and flanks. She was looking for water, water. . .and perhaps poppy flowers, too. The latter would be a bonus; the former, crucial.

Her vision swam as she went on, mouth unbearably dry despite the foam beginning to gather at the corners of her lips.

He had to keep looking.

The hunt had taken him through the Neverwinter and northeast, but after his rest in the village and return to Brecheliant, Kigipigak could not allow himself to stop for long; he rested briefly, he ate, and then he was away again on his hunt. Having lost Ariadne, the man could not abide the thought of also losing a child - not another, not again. He had to keep his family together.

Thus he went to the Bramblepoint; he had no intention of stopping there, and would have continued on ihs way north to the lake, and then the Heartwood, had the scent of a female wolf not drawn his attention. There was a tendril of desperation wrapped around his heart - perhaps the only thing keeping him going, at this point.

With any luck, the stranger could have seen Nutuyikruk. He followed the stranger's scent, noticing an odd sourness to it, but putting that aside in favor of his own needs. And when she came in to view, Kigipigak did not hold back - he drew as close as he could, rumbling a greeting so that she wasn't taken by surprise.

Miss! Miss, you are not from around here, her scent was too alien; she must have traveled far, and that gave him hope. Do you have a moment? I am looking for someone.

A big, pale mass of a man. She thought of Viinturuth first, panic rising in her chest as she realized her father had sent him after her. She wheeled around, shaking her head, nostrils flaring wildly—

No. No, it wasn't her uncle.

He smelled of Brecheliant. And worry.

What? Lilitu asked, trying to make her way through the brain fog. She squinted at him, licking dry lips. You—what? Looking for someone?

It was Viinturuth, looking for her.

Her breathing came quick and shallow, and the fur along her spine began to slowly rise.

The woman looked spooked; despite Kigipigak's effort not to startle her, which left him a touch reluctant. However he had to know, he had to employ as many sets of eyes as he could upon this task of finding his daughter. Maybe this woman was on the run herself - it didn't matter. In this venture Kigipigak was wholly selfish.

My daughter. He drew closer, not wanting to raise his voice, so he could save the shouting for his next excursion and the subsequent calling of, Nutuyikruk.

Our family is in a place called Moonglow, a village. About a week ago - maybe longer now - there was... an accident, her mother, ah, he found himself verbally stumbling. It hurt to speak about the loss. It is just me now and the kids, but Nutu, she is missing.

There is a pleading note in his voice despite how stalwart he wishes to appear, a festering wound to his heart. I have looked for her for many days. Have you seen anything? Any child roaming without a guardian? Please, I need to know.

The woman might have been a mother herself, judging by her age - or perhaps her uneasiness came from the passing of the season, and contending against the draw of men to her body. It didn't matter - only finding Nutuyikruk mattered.

My daughter.

His daughter.

I'm a daughter?

Missing. Mother dead. Lilitu thought of Arielle, of her son—so angry, but not alone.

Was Arielle alone?

Was she?

Maybe she doesn't wanna be found, she slurred, an uncharacteristic blend of fear and disdain in her voice. Maybe she's sick, like me. Daughter. Missing. Sometimes, that just happens.

Uncle—NO! Not him. Not here.

She won't come back, Lilitu muttered. She was panting slightly, now; her mouth was unbearably dry. God, hot. Thirsty. Anywhere to drink 'round here?

I'll help ya look if you get me water, she added, giving him her own pleading stare.

The edges of things were beginning to tremble and dissolve.

She barely noticed her fangs in his shoulder, in blind retaliation, until she was well away from the man. 

No no no, 

It couldn't have been. 

She

Couldn't

Have

done this