Dawnlark Plains VI

@Avicus/@Tulimaq/@Prophet

ice eyes lay at his paws. her body had stiffened. there was no life in her now.

augur called for red woman, for tall man, for blood eyes.

he told them in his voice that she had been killed. the toothmarks in her body and the scent that clung to her would speak for itself.

There was a second call, some hours ago.

Then the white wolf came. He dragged something - Tulimaq thought it odd, why not leave the kill where it fell, and then draw the wolves to it? That was the most efficient way to feed one's pack. He was sivullik and so he knew best.

As he approached, something was off about this. As he drew near enough to see the silvered body - tarry and black with mud, streaked with reds also, missing pieces - he recognized the body for what it was.

Bristling, rumbling lowly, Tulimaq advanced upon Augur and his deceased ally as if the boy was the culprit, and yet as he came to rest beside Kanuk, he stilled there, and glowered.

There was no sign of who did this, or why; only death, and of one so dear to him.

He arrived, not far off the trail from Tulimaq.

The scene was unwelcomed. The lead hunter loomed over a figure Prophet had not yet managed to decipher, Augur lingered too. Scents of dried blood and death lingered longest.

There was nothing good to be found as he grew closer. This was not an enemy killed, this was one of their own. He bristled sharply. He had just met this woman. She had proved so vital, he had seen the potential and surely others had too.

Now she laid wasted in the snow.

He tasted the failure of his job in his mouth. Leader of war had not managed to keep one of their own safe.

His eyes snapped sharply onto Augur.

the smell of blood. a body at their border.

it's a familiar scene, but the color's all wrong.

not the triumphant cry of Tulimaq's victory, but the anguished trumpet of grief.

Avicus races, nearly stumbling in her haste, drawing up short—

the woman. she barely had known her, and now, she is dead.

dead by violence.

who? she asks Augur, her voice hoarse. her indigo gaze sweeps across the still, battered form, her own windpipe tightening at the mangled look of her throat.

who? an enemy.

dead by violence

can be a cameo

The wolf he'd met, the one who'd spoken of words he did not know, was dead?

Ashlar scarcely believed when two calls went up in quick succession. The first had him leaping into action but the second hit him like a lead weight. It was not his fault, there was no chance to have been quick enough to prevent this. But it was still a failure that would sit on him a while, one his baba had warned him of but he had not expected regardless. The first he had been unable to save.

He hadn't been summoned but felt it was his role to be there anyway, if only to acknowledge that he had not been quick enough. His carriage was cautious and subdued and he stayed back, looking at her with both apology and sorrow when he caught sight of the crumpled wolf. She'd been formidable but something had overcome her. What would do this? This was their new home. There was no war yet, only celebration.

He stayed respectfully back, ready to accept blame, but also to help if they needed it. Death still frightened him but this was not the scattered remains of a stranger. He would help to bring her back to the rise if need be.

tall man walked toward augur. and the way that blood eyes looked at him brought the boy down. 

when red woman came he saw the way her face changed. he thumped his tail in the snow and looked at her with narrowed eyes, ears falling back.

blacktail was there. augur was glad for him.

the blod inched backward in the drifts and carefully stood. he half-turned down the path he had dragged ice eyes. he told the rest of redtail rise that he would take them to where he found her.

augur waited for red woman to release him.

Tulimaq could track many creatures across the empty wasteland of the north. He had once followed a mother seal using only her shadow against the ice, and his tenacity had won him a rich meal during a time of hardship. He knew his own capabilities; yet as he sat there staring at the lifeless corpse of his companion, he could find no clues, trace no path to follow.

The white wolf, Augur, used his looks and his body to tell them: he knew where, he could show them the place. Tulimaq did not yet rise. He heard the question by Avicus and had no answer - mourning in silence as the rage engulfed him.

How stupid this woman was, he thought. How weak. How useless, letting herself become the prey. To claim to be a hunter of any distinction - only to die.

Tulimaq did rise, eventually. He made his way to wherever Augur would lead - but he would not touch that body, or look at it again.

The scene felt messy.

Sudden tragedy always ways and it was best to find ways to clean things up. A glance over his shoulder shows him the figure of their bard, their Hǣlend. He had half a mind to tell the man this was his work now. To tend to the dead and see it fit she find final rest somewhere.

But it was winter and he was not nearly close enough to know how she wanted these last moments.

Her death was a mark upon them, one that could not be washed away by burying her.

But it could be overlaid with somebody else's own downfall.

He would follow Augur and Tulimaq.

no answers, not from the speechless man. she doesn't expect words from him. but she wishes, in this moment, that he could offer more. who? when? how?

she draws closer to the body and runs her muzzle over the quiet curves, blood heavy and heady in her nostrils.

the smell of Kanuk, and Augur—and someone else.

she commits the latter to memory.

and then follows, hoping Augur will lead them to more clues. not, though, without a backward glance to the ragged form, and a twinge of something rotten in her heart. failure.

one of hers had died. she had failed to keep her safe.

She shouldn't stay here. Ashlar watched as they all left, a note of despair behind the look, but none seemed to feel this was a task worth attention. Perhaps they would find who did it, but at the expense of setting her to rights.

Silently he grabbed her scruff, nose wrinkled at the blood, and began the slow process of dragging the larger female home. He would bury her at the base of the rise and, quietly, sing the songs mama had sung before. Ashlar wouldn't let her walk without the songs to keep her from walking alone.

it did not feel right to be at the head of a column.

only the death of their own had placed augur there.

his course was strong and direct. his posture was hung with grief and anger.