Blackfeather Woods life is nothing without the pain

The world around them was starting to grow once more, a thing Cicero found most favourable. He had not enjoyed being cooped up in Damien’s den, unable to move for some time, with no plants to make him feel alive to boot. To once more chew upon the blessings that Mephala had sent to them, to feel alive — Cicero knew that he had had good reason to stay alive, then.

It was no surprise with how close to Damien’s den he still was, not having gone far, that he would find his brother nearby. Cicero licked his lips as he ignored the remainder of the plant for now, mismatched eyes focusing on his brother. ”Brother,” he greeted and he reached out to nose through the fur along Damien’s neck briefly before withdrawing as Damien, to the point as always, asked where Kendra was at.

He squinted his eyes ever so briefly as his stomach revolted against the foreign intruder, sending a sting of sharp pain through his body. This was the moment Cicero usually regretted, in part; the pain felt the strongest, at times almost unbearable. But he knew it would soon be better, and he also knew that he would soon come to long back for that first, sharpest sting of pain when it became number and number — or was he the one that became number? — and would eventually die down into a comfortable lull when his head would become more absent.

After a short pause in which he processed that jolt of pain Cicero said: ”Cicero has not seen her today.” He licked his lips, picking some more remainders of juice off them while he wondered, ”What does Damien need her for?” His feet felt unsteady, but he managed to remain on them for the moment. He wondered if Damien would enjoy it as much as he would. The pain, at first, but ultimately the numb relief, if only for a little while.