Larksong Grotto All my friends are heathens

perhaps if it had not been such a tumultuous time in indra's life, their meeting would not have taken such a turn. as it was, indra was disheveled -- unseated -- and as she stared down the face of the wolf she had surprised she had an epiphany:

this is what laurel felt like, wasn't it?

she didn't want to feel mousy anymore. she didn't want to feel bad, or sorry, or sad. all of the sudden all of her frustrations were given a vessel in which to escape; saena leaving them, reek tricking them to come to the grotto, saena returning and not taking them home. the frustration snaked through her, ugly and red -- they had wanted her to pick between two things she loved;

they had wanted her to go without.

"poison?" she repeated, a batlike ear swept forward as she looked to him with a squint of disbelief. suddenly, a thought unkind trickled from her resentful heart. "show me." she demanded, knowing exactly what she wanted to do with whatever poison he found.