The Sentinels the mordant liquor of tears

There was a great sadness weighing upon all of Donnelaith. It was something that even the reclusive Eigma could feel, working away at the pit of her stomach, at the heart she had given freely to the pack. The chaos after that day on the beach -- where two bodies were found, one alive and one not -- was still fresh in her mind. She had helped as best she could with things. Moving both entities, burying one, tending and guarding the other as was needed. Eigma had the strangest sense that her fate had been tied to the woman in the sand; that she had met her before, knew her to some degree. Perhaps the injuries which had placed her here among the wolves of Donnelaith had waylayed that memory. It was not a good feeling, and only served to cause a marked level of dissociation within Eigma.

When the call came from Lasher, summoning the group together, she doggedly found her way. The sight of Lasher -- having lost weight and replaced it with a mix of sadness and seething -- made everything feel so much worse. The turmoil this King must have been in, having found his own son in such a state... Eigma moved in, slowly. She stopped and sank to her haunches while waiting for others to arrive, and as they filed in, Lasher spoke. At the end, as he breathed a tired command for others to voice their concerns or their support, Eigma could think of nothing to say. Surely no one would be willing to let their King run off to the coast alone; yet if that was his wish, there was no one who could stop him.