Stone Circle One more body to bury

For everyone, but especially for @Greyback @West Tyree @Leta

Arlette helped Merrit as much as she could bringing the stuff body back. It was horrible, and Arlette kind of shut off the thoughts that this was her brother. It was much easier when she tried to ignore that fact. Once they reached the border she howled for her mother, her father and the rest of their family to come and see what happened. She put some urgency behind it.

Once she did that she took a bit of a distance from the body. She knew her mother would probably come soon and she rather wanted to be away than to be around her. Arlette glanced at her brother, so strong looking. Travel had done him well.

edit: @Merrit too of course!!

The revelations Arlette had shared with him -- first, that this remnant they carried was their brother, and second, that their aunt had died -- well, they were enough to render the stoic man quieter than he'd ever imagined his reunion with his sister would be. For what could he say? He still knew nothing of her scars, but could only imagine they were, at least in part, related to the cougar that had slain Nanook. And as for Clay? Arlette had always been strong, but she was also sensitive; he remembered the solidity and the softness of her heart. He was not surprised when she tried to help, and he was not surprised when she simply struggled. He let her come beside him as best as she was able, and let the brunt of their brother's weight fall upon himself when she inevitably let go.

He carried their brother alone for the final silent stretch. When they reached Easthollow, he lowered Clay's corpse to the ground, careful in how he placed the pieces that remained. The hollowed face, he turned away from the sky, to afford his brother this final honour in the midst of this great dishonouring. His brother was gone, his soul long departed, but his body was sacred, no matter how far he had wandered from mother, from Greyback, from them.

He tried not to think much beyond the surface of things: the neck looked best when laid like this, the legs when placed like that. When he had finished arranging the shredded parts, Merrit stepped back and sidled closer to his sister, for his comfort as much as hers. He did not know what she thought of his absence but found in the way she looked at him at least reassuring. Shying away from the body -- yet she did not seem averse to him. So he expelled reserve, and any hesitation, and sought to brush against her, to offer her a compassionate touch. The whisker brush of an embrace, his shoulder against her shoulder, present, tangible, strong, if she wished to collapse into something only seemingly sturdier than herself.

When she heard Arlette howl with an intensity she disliked, Valette's heart jolted. Not only because her daughter howled to come but also in the way she howled. The matriarch knew their relationship was rocky at the moment but something happened that was serious enough for her to come to Arlette. They had enough on their minds lately, and she wondered what was the matter now. She made haste to go to her daughter. When she approached she looked at Arlette and --- Valette froze. Stark. No. It couldn't be. Stark had no white in his fur, the hazel eyes. Her eyes. Merrit.

Could it possibly that something good was happening at the moment? Her tail wagged and she rushed forward until she she realized that there was a dead body on the ground. What was it with her children being around dead wolves lately!? She frowned and then looked from Arlette to Merrit, clearly confused and unsure what happened here. She didn't even recognize the body as her son. She didn't give it a second glance, before stepping closer to Merrit and Arlette. But the moment she did Arlette turned away from her, ears back and not even looking at her. Valette's ears flopped back and turned her gaze to Merrit. "What happened?," she asked, her voice unsure since she was not certain Merrit was mad at her too. She didn't know what Arlette told him.

The call rang clear through the air, yet despite the source, it almost felt haunting. Whatever Arlette wanted it seemed urgent, so West would not spare a second more as he swiftly made his way to his family. At a quick glance, the woodland boy noticed three bodies gathered, his sister and mother tense as always around one another as they had been and another. He was older with a raven esque pelt that couldn't help but strike a chord of familiarity within him. Another moment would pass until a name clicked into place to match his face, Merrit.

The last time West had seen his older brother he was but a kid and one day he just stopped seeing him, but his disappearance slipped past his gullible child mind. Honestly, they never really spent time together when he was here it surprised him that he recognized his kin at all. For a moment, he liked to believe that this was good news, that Arlette wanted to call to reunite their family, but the tone she urged them with suggested otherwise. As he neared, it soon became apparent the true reason for their summoning.

There was a body, disfigured, and gone slumped upon the cold earth. At a glance, there was no telling who it could belong to, not with the way the face was sunken in and chunks of flesh ripped away leaving holes as hollow as the soulless body. Though there was one detail that even amongst the charred flesh refused to go unnoticed by the woodland boy. Scars. Deep and crawling like the branches of a tree that had snagged the hindquarters and left a trail of ruts.

West felt the world sway from under him, his heart now hammering against his ribs as his mother's voice seemed to fall underwater and turn to static. His mouth felt dry yet sticky at the same time and all he could do was forced himself to swallow. To any onlooker, it might appear as if he had seen a ghost...and perhaps he did. He only knew of one wolf with scars like those and with what was left of the body along with the urgency in Arlette's voice...there was no denying it, Clay—

Instinctively, he had taken a step back, though something rooted him to the ground keeping him from fleeing. He wanted to deny it. There was no way. It wasn't possible! Clay had come home only a few months ago, sure he left again, but he was fine. As fine as Clay ever was at least— Fire filled him, burned him, his chest too tight to contain the flames that laid waste to his insides. He was confused as his mind ran wild with too much freedom. What happened? Why Clay? Where was his face? Could he have stopped it? How?

Who did this— what happened? His brother— he failed him.

He didn't stop him.

He should have followed.

What happened? Why?!

It's your fault.

A sodden call broke the wind, and as a good shepherd does he heeds it with his own.

The man once pitch black as coal has now greyed to that of a dead log—white across his face and back that does nothing to conceal the age of his bones and the history that weighs upon them. But in all his years, in all the wisdom and age he has collected his life did not prepare him for the wrath that laid ahead.

A body—or what left of one was laid broken at the feet of a dove and the poet, a silent maiden, and a shaken soldier. Their soul long been dispatched from the confines of fried flesh and gnawed bones, and sucking in his breath, the elder stood before it—before them with a mouth as firm as the earth.

Even when his chest met the back end of his shaken son, Greyback did little to offer him attention, solace, or any other malleable feeling. All the man could do was step forward towards the nightmare to stare with misty eyed at the remnants of where his heart laid broken. He tried to convince himself it wasn't true, that it had to be someone else, something else.

Or perhaps that maybe it was the way it had to be. The way it was intended from the start; the loss of venicy, the two stillbirths bored by Valette, the disappearance of newt, the departure of clay.

"How..." he broke, voice chopped.

Soon as her mother approached, West and Greyback joined as well. All their reactions were very different. While her mother didn't realize it was Clay, it seemed that West and Greyback did know who was there. By their facial expressions. Only after West called out for his brother they all seemed to know. Arlette had to look away. "I found a wolf eating him, when I attacked this loner Merrit was there to help me. Together we brought him back," she returned shortly. "I don't know how he died."

She didn't look at her mother as she spoke. She was going to be sick. She shook her head and then Arlette left the group. She knew her mother was probably going to bury him by the stones, and she didn't really want to be around those stones. Plus to be there while they mourned. She would visit Clay later and give him a tribute.

this is my only post!

the air was unsettled, as if charged by the sharp call to probe at fluttering ears and continue its search through the wearied lands of easthollow. foreboding taunts her progression forth as she allows a fruitless twist of an ear lest it might dislodge such a feeling of trepidation as if it were but pesky rainwater. alas it seems only to press closer as she draws to a stop a little ways away from the gathered family, frowning against the bite of the chilling air. she is stalled by the dull realisation that autumn had truly caught ahold of them, slithered in and settled snugly amongst the lands whilst they all bickered and stressed. it too meant that a whole year had passed since she'd lost the stable existence found in family-- a tightening of her jaw as toes pressed the damp earth, that yawning regret chewing at her heart as she could not help but wish oh so dreadfully that they had decided against taking that risky passage through those cruel mountains; if only if only if only.....

it is primarily what keeps the distance between her and the others at that moment, the stark reminder that despite how much she could come to care for these wolves and vice versa, she was not their family. sure easthollow ran on the idea that all who resided within its borders were all part of one big family and there was such a beauty to that but....when it truly came down to it; those who shared the same blood humming within their veins would always value each other in a way that no one else could ever compare; it made her feel....lonely. 

'clay--' 

the touch of west's voice, so deeply harrowing in its ragged torment; it sparks an intense alertness into a stare that had hidden so fervently behind foggy dwams. desperate to think and think and wonder and think rather than face what she had seen and yet refused to acknowledge the very moment she'd caught sight of the group. a body---- torn, mauled--- clay.

clay. 

legs buckle and suddenly she is sat upon the earth, eyes squeezing shut with a vehemence that sparked strange little lights to life in the gloom of shuttered eyelids as her head swims. "shit" she gasps, tail raking up fallen leaves with each lash. "shitshitshit"

it feels as if she lingers miles away from the scene, separated from the stricken family by some physical force;; she is too calm?? why is she so calm? why is she not screaming, sobbing and raging at the world?? "shit" shouldn't there be more volume to that? propelled forth by more emotion?? and yet she just feels......beaten. this is what happens after all, you live and then..you die. for no good reason at all, you can wonder and demand all you want but...there truly was nothing to it. the universe didn't give a damn about them, how cocky of them to believe the world would care enough to play games with their lives. it was just checking whatever boxes needed to be checked, snuffing out lives as it deemed fit. 

she opens her eyes again, ragged look drawn to west, wishing she could go to him but....she can't. this wasn't her place, clay wasn't her family and yet....

she wonders how much did they ever truly know him.

"oh clay..." she whispers, raising to a shaky stand as she turned away from the scene; fearing the roll of her stomach would result in literal vomiting should she have to see him again and not wishing to even know what had happened. 

all she could do now was deal with the regret, the guilt whispering its ceaseless taunts. he'd been so melancholic when she'd returned, so distressed from the plague of self disgust tailing him simply for who he chose to love. had he ever found happiness? had he felt love, realised that his family did and would always have loved him no matter what, and most importantly had he ever learned to love himself? that he wasn't flawed, cursed? she should have done more, he'd been suffering and she'd done nothing even after he'd admitted to her--

steps guided her further away until she would finally come to a stop and tilt her head back to stare up at that vast sky sneering down. "clay-- did you know? did you really know how much your family loved you, how lucky you were to have them? did you ever realise that they would have loved you no matter what, that you had nothing to fear? and did you ever stop hating yourself, ever realise that you did not deserve an ounce of that resentment you delivered to yourself? that the fact that you loved boys would never have mattered, that all that mattered was that you loved and you were so kind and so sweet even when you struggled with such anger and uncertainty? i wonder did you ever find that mysterious boy you talked about, i would like to believe that you did and that you found peace and were content if only for a little while, that you regained some of that joy and wonder you had when we first met that long time ago. 

i'm so sorry clay, that i didn't do enough to make you realise you were loved and always worth loving, i hope someone else did a better job and you found what you were looking for. i don't know what happens when you die, if you're just gone or if your energy now lingers within the earth itself but i just hope you know that i love you and your family loves you and you deserved all the happiness in the world" 

her head drops and she sits down, tail wrapping around her slender figure as she stares unseeingly at those distant peaks-- she stays sitting there for a long, long time.

I didn't proofread this because it is long and my brain is dead, hopefully it makes some semblance of cohesive and emotional sense lol My apologies for holding this up! I believe @Valette is next?

They were alone, in silence, for as long as they could be. Easthollow was never slow to intercept anyone who lingered on their borders -- stranger, or family, and especially not when coupled with a call as urgent as Arlette's.

Mother was the first to come. When his eyes met hers, he felt a moment of tense emotion. Palpable, and pointed; her eyes had only reached him, and Merrit felt a heaviness settle in his chest. What unspoken judgments did she hide behind the quickening of her step and her sudden shift to a brighter countenance? He felt Arlette shift at his side, saw his mother notice the corpse of her son, their brother.

Yet she did not seem to recognize him. Who could blame her? When was the last time she had even seen Clay? How long ago, since Merrit had chased him off of Moonspear, protected him from their teeth -- and for what? To see him fall to the jaws of another.

Why hadn't he left Moonspear the moment Clay ran off?

Why hadn't he followed?

A sliver of reality sunk its talons through his chest; his heart twisted, constricted, beat with a rushing pace.

Two others came. In any other place, he would not have recognized the younger. He had been so small when he'd left. So had Leta, Newt, and Clay. But his brother and sister were as absent as Keen, and as Merrit turned his eyes from mother to West, he watched the boy -- now a man -- in those short, uninterrupted seconds -- watched him look upon their brother's scorched and shredded corpse -- watched, as recognition dawned.

"Clay."

His brother's voice sent a whisper up his spine; Merrit shivered, and his paws felt numb against the earth.

Numb, until Greyback lumbered forward, a ghost along the plains, and Merrit's eyes fluttered with a strike of sudden shock. He wasn't dead? But he had seen him --

The patriarch hunched with age, and silvered hairs stole any gleam of youth from his face -- he was not dead, but this would surely kill him, and Merrit wished he had thought quick enough to obscure the body, to side-step to block Greyback's path so the patriarch would not see.

But the patriarch did see. He saw, as West had seen, and he stood, as stone stiff as a glacier, silent in the tears he wept over his lands.

Arlette offered the quickest explanation before her warmth peeled away from his side and he found himself alone, an alien amongst those he had once known. He did not notice the pale girl beyond them. The tenseness, the uncertainty, the grief, they pigeonholed him into this moment, and he felt everything and nothing at all.

"He has been disgraced in too many ways," his own voice surprised him when he finally spoke. His throat felt heavy, and his words, as if detached from himself altogether. Detached from them; his family's familiar accent no longer clung to the raven's voice. Instead his swam with the mark of having travelled many places, and he wondered how Clay might've talked --

"We must bring him to the stones," he looked to West, to Greyback. Could not look at mother. Wished he could turn and run like Arlette, but as far as he knew Ezra was not here, and neither Ezekiel nor Stark, and West was a man, but still a child, a grieving brother. And Merrit -- in this moment, he was the eldest son. And as the eldest, he stepped forward to grip what remained of Clay. He had failed to protect this of his mother's brood, and he would bear the body of the brother they had lost.

Valette's mouth opened when West recognized the body as Clay's first. She blinked and then shook her head. No this wasn't Clay, this couldn't be! The mother let out a gasp and moved to the body. She nosed over him. She could barely recognize him. It was that Greyback and West believed that it was Clay but she was almost as eager to believe that this was not Clay. Valette's heart ached though. Especially when Arlette spoke of some wolf eating him. She shivered.

She touched the body with her nose and could instantly tell that he was dead for a few days. At least he had been here close to home for Arlette to find him. Valette hadn't noticed Polaris either who had been in the background. She just stared at the body that was suppose to be her son. She shook her head, unable to believe it. She silently nodded to Merrit when he said that he should be buried by the stones. In that moment, she realized she hardly knew her son. Who he was as a person besides angry and insecure at the same time. That was when the tears started.

From the corner of her eye she saw Arlette leave. Valette frowned. "Arlette come back!," she called out but it ran dead because the pale female had left. Her hazel eyes looked confused at Merrit. Did Arlette hate her so much that she had to give her another kick after by not even be bothered to bury her brother?! She looked with teared eyes at Greyback. This was the third of their litter they lost, and unknowingly there was a fourth missing as well. "Oh Greyback, our pups. Why?," she sniffed.

The world felt quiet, too quiet. A void that threatened to suck him in with no release as his thoughts only spiraled off uncontrollably as they often did. West was unaware of the dove watching from a distance, nor Arlette taking the chance to depart from what was left of their family. It was just Clay. Clay in a broken crumpled void that both he and West now floated in.

West never felt the tremble that shook his paws nor the blades of grass beneath him, it was all just air. Nothingness. It was only when his father brushed against him that the boy seemed to be grounded once more. Everything came back slowly, the spread of green beneath his family's paws, the living bodies that surrounded Clay, the trees, the sky. It painted a grim picture, one that he couldn't tear his eyes away from. Even with his limbs placed in a more natural way, Clay had been disgraced in too many ways.

Something deep inside him shook his core, a heat that threatened to build up and burst out of him, though it didn't. He wouldn't let it. A lump had formed in his throat that hit his stomach like a rock as he swallowed and bit back the bile and tears that pressed for release. Not here. West's eyes never met his brother's, but he would follow in his footsteps as Merrit reached down to drag their sibling's remains. Their parents shouldn't have to do this. It felt wrong to ask a mother to bury their child.

No further response was given from the woodland boy as he too found a hold on Clay. Instead, he would settle for silently dragging him up to the hill where the stones reached the heavens, where their family laid and where Clay soon would too.