Broken Boulder or without your smile

I may or may not post again, depending on if I wanna hash it out.  Skip me, I might jump in.

Ioa was not Celia and that was indisputable fact.  Alarian had returned with news of their mother's death before Ioa had taken her life at the Sleeping Dragon.  Their mannerisms might have been similar.  Their stature.  The colour of their pelt.  Still, Ioa was not their mother.  She had been a packmate, and not one that Lanawyn had gotten to know very well.

Lanawyn slid in beside her brother without a word and began to paw at the damp summersweet earth.  Had she been buried?  Large tears pooled over her lids and down her cheekbones.  Her throat began to burn.  Had she?  Had Celia gotten her vigil?

Thoughts came to her in every graphic manner she could imagine — her mother's skull cracked and dripping, the sound a creature makes as life begins to escape.

This was for Ioa.  But somewhere in Lanawyn's heart, it was for Celia, too.