The Sentinels in the darkening of the year

Eilidh had been far removed from pack life for many months now. There was little that could return her to the previous spark of herself, and she knew it. Communicating with the dead was not one of those ways, try as she might in the darkest corners of her den. But as she was a creature of habit, she gathered a squirrel skull she'd been hoarding and delicately carried it toward her father's grave. She was late, but that did not bother her; nothing seemed to bother her anymore. She heard the tail-end of Emaleth's speech and subsequent prayer, but she did not join in.

Instead, the wraith deposited her skull upon her father's very grave, bent to kiss the earth with a quiet prayer of her own, and retreated. She paused at the edge of the clearing, standing in shadow, and turned to look at her siblings. They were young and untried, untested against the world. Whatever had Aria and Constantine been thinking? These girls were just that: children. They knew nothing of the world, of the hardships it offered, of the ways in which wolves would ingratiate themselves into your lives, and leave you broken. Eilidh dipped her head to her sisters before turning and never looking back. She walked through the woods of her youth one last time. When she reached the edge of the Sentinels, she pressed herself against the tallest tree, and breathed in its beauty one last time.

Then Eilidh Mayfair left Donnelaith in search of something else. Something new to fill the void that had grown within her heart.