Swiftcurrent Creek once, there was a way to get back home

The madman was gone, but his death throes haunted her still. She hadn't slept a wink since that fated day, carrying on down the mountain and toward her father's territory. She spoke no words, her single eye a beacon through the murky aftermath.

Shock. Pain. Despair.

She'd done her best to clean the bite wound upon her shoulder, taking a detour to wash herself in the sea. The salt on tattered flesh had hurt worse than the blow itself, but she dared not risk contaminating some freshwater source with this. . .

Disease.

The superficial wound was healing, she thought, but Lilitu wondered—

It was only a matter of time, right?

She stopped at the border with lead in her stomach and her heart in her throat. Her call for @Akavir was friendly but timorous, and she instructed him to come alone:

It would be hard enough to tell him that she was going to die without a captive audience listening in.

set for the 23rd

Lilitu.

His wayward daughter—it was no longer a strange thing for her to up and disappear without word, and for that, he did not blame her. The call of wanderlust was strong in her genes—Viinturuth was an example of this, as well.

When she beckoned him, it was with a halting worry that she call for him alone—his pace quickening, and as she came to view, the man’s gaze drew over her, worry knitting at his brows—eyes instantly falling upon the wound on her shoulder. “Lilitu,” he murmured, pulling closer, looking to draw her in for a hug. “We should have Arlette address that.”

All she wanted was to fling herself into Akavir's embrace in childish abandon, sob into his chest and mourn the fates of those poor, sick wolves. Of those children, scattered to the winds as orphans.

Of her own destiny to die, empty-eyed and foaming at the mouth.

As it was, she took several quick steps backward, shirking his touch and shaking her head. No, Papa, Lilitu said, though her voice broke on both words. You—you can't touch me. No one can. And you definitely can't have anyone touch that wound.

She summoned a long, shuddering inhale and then went on, meeting his eyes with her own.

There was a couple up in the taiga—they were sick, really sick, and she died first. They were crazy, Papa—it was as if they had no brain left and only acted on instincts. Foaming at the mouth. . .

Lilitu shut her one eye, then opened it again; the images in the dark were worse than facing the light.

The man survived her, but not for very long, she continued. They had kids—I tried to help get them away from him, but he bit me. She twisted her muzzle in illustration, pointing to her shoulder.

That's how it spreads, she whispered. If it were possible for her face to go pale, it would be bone-white by now. Their touch; their bite. And the old witch told me that it's. . .fatal.

Fatal. Two syllables, dropped between them like a curtain, forever separating her from those she loved.

'No, Papa.'

It was with a look of incredulous pain he regarded her in these moments--the pull of her story and the haunting words of his cousin, Lestan, now long gone.

Mayfair curse.

It had to be... it had to be.. 

Maybe it was seconds. Maybe it was a lengthy stretch, but Akavir could not catch his thoughts to even respond--because if anything had to be a nightmare, it must have been this, surely?

Lilitu, he began, and his tongue was ash.

And then the bile came, and he turned from her. In the back of his mind, the reality of it all began to weave it's way to the forefront of his mind, displayed like one large WARNING sign.

He knew this disease. Of it. Never had he witnessed it.

Never...

He held back the bile and his dry heave-- his eyes were glazed, and he looked to the horizon, a firmness set upon him. Then we find someone who can help.

To the ends of the earth.

To hell. 

To wherever he need to go.

His stunned silence came as no surprise to her, nor did the sorrow and anger that simmered underneath. 

No, it was his steadfast defiance in the face of death that brought the tears—an inexorable wave of grief that soon wracked her body with sobs.

She had failed him so many times. . .and now she would again, against her own volition.

I don't t-think it's possible, P-Papa! Lilitu gasped out in the scant breath she had left, with the crying and all. I'm so s-s-sorry; I didn't mean for this to- t-to happen, and I didn't wanna upset you b-but I didn't just wanna n-never see you again and. . .

She took a deep inhale, then another, trying desperately to steady herself. The sobs were easing, but the waterfall still poured from that one good eye. 

I just wanted t-to help those kids, she whispered. I d-don't think I can have k-kids of my own. Tried but never worked, she added in a sullen mumble. So if I could just s-save them. . .

Lilitu sat back hard on her ass, feeling nothing but the shame and fear that gripped her heart in a vise.

Tears completely wracked her—and he stood, helpless—her insistence he didn’t touch her, he stayed away—

—he closed his eyes a moment. He knew nothing of this disease she spoke of—he didn’t understand how something like this could happen, how something like this could exist—

She poured her heart out, and defiance stole over him—he moved forward, moving to wrap him in his arms—to hold her until she stopped crying, if she would let him. He might not have been able to cure her, or make this better for her—but like hell he would let her endure this pain alone.

“I love you, so fucking much,” he hissed into the air—his eyes seeking the heavens—and faintly, he wondered if there was an outline of a stag in the clouds.

A curse of the Mayfair’s.

She couldn't even pull away. She was broken, at sea—a little girl in need of her daddy's embrace. She kept her cheek turned, trying not to stain his face with her tears, in case they carried the madness. . .

I will always love you, Lilitu replied, her voice thick with snot and emotion. I always have. No matter what. No matter where we are or where we've been.

Ibis was dead and Arielle gone. He was the closest wolf left to her heart.

Which was why, when the sickness took hold, she would have to leave once more, and shatter his.