Ghost Lion Crag What fresh hell is this

Hunger. It gnawed at her as aliving thing would, as with exhaustion and pain.  Her gaze was glazed with dullness, her pelt ragged and thick with dirt and blood. One of her legs was mangled, and she could tell none of the damage due to the vast amount of blood and earth that covered it. One of her ears was torn into shreds, though her face had escaped harm, her body had not. 

Night was was falling quickly, and the distance to the isle seemed so much farther then it ought to. Still she stumbled on in the uneven footing, fresh blood seeping amount the dried as a sudden movement would open a barely stabbed over wound. Finally, she stumbled and fell, and on the wind she could scent a pack's distant scent, though which eluded her for a moment. 

This time, she did not rise, breaths laboured as she spread out in a slightly more comfortable position as she stared over her bloodied, filthiest pelt. She ought to clean it. But the thought of that had her even more exhausted, and thus she merely settled her head on her paws, ignoring the mangled leg spread out on one side. Tomorrow, she would deal with all this. Tomorrow.

It was the stirring of the wind at night that make her worried something might have happened. Aero had left them, God knows for what anymore, and had not returned in a while. Malice, though she definitely didn't like a lot of wolves, had grown quite fond of the white woman. She was like a sister she never had - a person she regular went to for a simple chat if her boys were busy for a while. She had lost enough of her new family to get worried, and perhaps this was what had driven her out of the comfort of her own home - to seek the white woman and return her to Arthendal where she found Aeronwyn belonged.

She had told no one of her sudden search for her sister, in the heat of the moment, and almost sprinted through the ice cold water that surrounded their safe haven. She knew how to navigate the first part of her journey without the stars with ease, though when the scent of a pack she did not know hit her nose her hackles rose. Had this always been here - right on their doorstep? Malice decided to discuss the matter with her mate and their Warlord whenever she was returned home safely and let the pack be for now. They would feel her wrath another day, another time.

She crossed three rivers, surely masking her scent if anyone dared try and follow her and soon enough the scent of fresh blood entered her nostrils. Her heart began racing as she nosed everywhere, eventually spotting a white and blood red Aeronwyn in the distance. She almost choked and ran as fast as her muscled legs could carry her toward her sister. She had found her, she was safe now. Well, that was if she did not bleed to death.

She looked awful - well, both of them did at this point, but Aero surely was a mess. Her ear was torn to shreds and for a moment Malice thought her to be dead. She curled her massive build around the other woman and lay down, softly, as to not disturb any of her wounds or bring her pain. Ssshhttt... I'm here, it's me, Malice... She whispered, wanting to groom her friend, but she was uncertain if that would only bring more mess to the table.  

She was on the precipice of sleep when suddenly there was another beside her, and in a moment she was pushing to her feet, pain as she disturbed old wounds. But then she recognized the scent of Malice, and her once, and she relaxed again, gaze, though dulled, sweeping to her sister's face. Her whispered words brought to ease the relentless tension and unease the woman felt, and she breathed the smallest sigh of relief.

For another moment she was silent then her voice, hoarse and soft, cracked the sience. "Nemesis...the Brotherhood...do not worry." She breathed, voice breaking in spots and but a whisper. She was so tired, she realized for about the hundredth time, yet she was torn from rest by the fact that she must return to Arthendal, back home. 

As if to certify her words she gently nudged her Lady's shoulder, breathing another sigh as she did so. Her pain did not abate, it had not since the fight and then the travel, yet she had become acostumed to it now.

She had not meant to startle - not meant for anything to happen to her. She was just glad she had found her sister, bloodied and beaten up, but alive. She did not know what she would have done if she had not returned. She was family, be it by word or blood, and had earned the loyalty and compassion of the Lady as long as she stayed brave and with them. Malice eyelids fell to a close, relieved and tired of her journey as she lay next to her beloved Warlord, gently inspecting her wounds. She needed a medic - anyone good with herbs, and that was most certainly not the lady herself.

Nemesis? She called out in shock, eyes flickering open, set ablaze by a sudden fury she felt within. How dare that bitch... First her and her pack, then her children and Burke, and now Aeronwyn. What did that woman have? An obsession of hurting her, over and over again, just for the revenge for that one time? Only the nudge to her shoulder brought her back to reality, and Malice muscles relaxed again.

How- when, did she do this? I swear, this will not go unpunished for long - I'll- I'll... She stuttered in her anger and had to take some deep breathes to calm down.

Her anger was a sudden flame, and Aeronwyn shifted to face her better, letting out a hiss as she did so. Her friends anger was expected but I'll placed, in her opinion, though then again she did have a stubborn sience of dignity. She spoke a few moments after Malie retook her first breaths, and it was again but a whisper. "Relax, sister. It is-" 

She broke off with a hiss, pain erupting across her side as a rock jabbed into a tender wound, squinting her eyes shut as she forced herself still while the pain abated. "It is my fight. You need not do anything" she finished sincerely, relaxing on the earth as exhaustion suddenly became a crushing weight and her eyes begun to slid shut. "Tomorrow. We can...go back. Sister." Then ear eyes finally did slid shut, pain abating as sleep took hold and the form of malice provided unmatched comfort in this moment. Her form relaxed, tension seeing as her breaths became steady and she slept soundly for the first time in perhaps days.

Relax? This was not a matter of just "oh, yeah, just chill"! This was an attack on their warlord, and she out of all the ART members should know that an attack on one meant an attack on all. With her boys now older and their numbers growing, Malice felt extremely empowered and actually ready for war. While Burke may be a little rusty, he still had the fire in his soul the Lady had so admired about him - first, though, they would have to nurse Aeronwyn back to health. Only then could they travel to the flatlands and seek revenge on the long hated Brotherhood. Malice had shown them mercy, had shown that a silent war without violence could be achieved too, and Nemesis had just gone and ruined it.

It is not your fight - not as long as you're part of Arthendal. One of us down, is all of us down. Malice replied sternly, leaving no room for disagreements. It was obvious that she was pissed, and for good reasons - for she very much doubted Aeronwyn would be so stupid as to waddle right into their forest of fucking dead things. When she noticed the other's tired spirit she sighed. Tomorrow indeed, sis... She breathed out, laying her head on her paws. Tomorrow indeed... She whispered as even she fled to the sky of dreams and wonders.