Shadowwyn Moor moulin rouge

Bhreac rolled her eyes at her sister's jibe, but smiled nonetheless, elated for a bit of levity and more importantly, a bit of familiarity. Eshe's follow-up question was less easy to take. Bhreac's ears flattened against her head and she took a step backward, shaking her head. It'd been chaos, when the other back had attacked; impossible to keep track of anybody, or anything, and although they'd fought back, eventually it had been clear that it was a lost cause and they'd been scattered. It'd been like a waking dream after that, and she was foggy on the details — if there'd been bodies, she'd walked away from them. If anybody from their pack had called out to bring the survivors together, she hadn't heard.

"It was like chasing fucking butterflies," Bhreac said. "Too many scents in too many directions. I couldn't hold on to any of them, and I was afraid that — I was afraid that if I followed anybody, I wouldn't find them... okay. Whenever we were little and we'd wander off too far, mom would tell us to stay put, and someone would find us. So that's what I did." Bhreac sighed, her lips dipping toward a frown. "You're the only one who came back."