Broken Antler Fen [m] when god is gone and the devil take's hold, who will have mercy on your soul

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The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: Death and mild gore.

Tags for reference. Rebel is welcome to post with Viin if she desires, but otherwise, RO. <3

He had scaled his way back from the mountain with a definitive prowl. Time had passed—he had to be swift about it. An apology was delivered to @Arric and @Arlette in the early hours of the morning—the explanation that he needed this closure. He needed this to finalize the grief that weighed him down.

He would speak also to @Mae and @Cygnet—reminding them they needed the guardians to the borders and they could not accompany him on this… Not now. He would not risk them.

Only when dawn crept closer to the lands did he and @Viinturuth set off—ying and yang to the Creek—littermates, brothers.

@Lilitu had departed some time ago—but with his determination and the Creek’s lead scout in travel, they made decent time. They found her—in the land that Akavir had once whispered to her when she was but a pup that all would be safe for them here—this was the land that would be their fresh start.

Grief choked him—it caused his footsteps to be leaden—his heart to twist in anguish, and the tears flowed freely from his eyes. There was no masking it from his brother. Scavengers had plucked away at her—decomposition making her almost unrecognizable.

But he would know his baby girl anywhere.

Moving her would be trickier now—@Muskrat’s words ringing in his ears. Bite. Blood.

The logical assumption then, they must not touch her fully with teeth or saliva. "Take no chances," he sternly reminded his brother.

In hours, the brothers found what they needed—a hunt, a skin, large enough to wrap her in. Far to many times, Akavir had to stop—the hollow of his eyes drifting to where she lay—retching the vile and water from his own stomach. Again, and again.

Finally, prepared—gently, a roll of her body to where they needed. The stench unbearable—the view even more so, but still, his eyes fell to where hers would be. “Daddy has you, baby girl,” he whispered, broken.

Wrapped—they would begin the transportation.

Again, he would need to stop, vomit, and scream his anger into the world.

And again, they would continue onward—needing to see this last piece through.