Swiftcurrent Creek there is nothing for me to burn, nothing but myself

Find shelter. Find shelter. Find shelter. Over and over he repeats, pausing for the merest of seconds as he swears that out of the corner of his eye he sees a shadow move. Is disappears as quick as Baal thinks he sees it and the rawboned man is left with instead the consideration of what it actually is, the consideration that hunger deprivation is causing him to hallucinate. It would not be the first time. Just the other day he’d seen Hann staring back at him when he peered in the distorted, mirror-like surface of a partially frozen lake — and while this is not irrevocably uncommon as they were “identical twins” in the manner that they were born very close together and grew up looking like one another: a equal dispersal of the same dna. dna that makes them look more like their grandfather than their father ever cared to admit. He swallows and turns his head away with dismissal of what he thinks is his imagination running rampant — also not the first time.

Yet steps falter once more as he is struck with the feeling that his heart had lurched and stuck itself in his throat as a sniped brother in a familiar voice, drawing nearer until she is flanking him. Baal struggles to breathe, threatens to choke on the fear and the unbridled joy at seeing Cupun again. Baal’s life has been hell ever since Hann has been murdered for their crimes but it has been measurably worse since his fight with Cupun and his brazen exit. A boldness that Baal could not repeat, he was confident. It had been a rare occurrence for the one that has always been an omega all of his life as it was. A fluke. A glitch in the system that had otherwise always operated to optimal efficiency in his designated role among his siblings. He slides to his belly before her in total submission, ready to grovel, ready to beg her for forgiveness like a sinner prostrating himself before a holy priestess to absolve him. “I’m sorry,” He gasps, ears slicking back to lay flat against the curve of his skull. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He repeats it, his tone choking and thick, looking to lick her chin in submission, to signify that he knows his place and that he would be disobedient again …if she accepts him, that is. Baal still grieves for Hann. He will always grieve the loss of his stronger half, the half of his heart that will never know anything but the unforgiving cold of grief and unimaginable sorrow. Baal still grieves for Hann but he knows now that he cannot allow that grief to diminish the importance of his sister to him. Cupun is irrevocably just as much apart of him as Hann was and he needs her. His current condition is proof enough of that.

“P-please Cupun,” He begs. “Please forgive me.”