Dawnlark Plains no, they won't be home tonight

He pressed his forehead back, almost painfully so, gritting his teeth and shutting his eyes. The fantasy he'd crafted in which Grayday would wake up was slipping away, and with it, the blanket of apathy that had settled over him. Peeled back, grief was exposed once more, rippling over his body in fiery spasms. His stomach heaved in several consecutive sobs, and he nuzzled his face into Pema's neck, taking a long, ragged breath.

"Okay," Shale whispered, suddenly exhausted beyond measure. "Let's go." He pulled back, looking at her for a moment, before his gaze turned to Day's body once more. Lingering over, studying each detail. He knew that when he returned, it would be changed--decayed, scavenged. Soon, there would be naught but bones and a bit of sinew holding it all together. His brother, as he knew him, was no more.

Shale dipped his head, running his muzzle along the carcass, making low, moaning sounds in his throat. He took in the last vestiges of the scent that still lingered, the scent that he'd known all his life. Felt the plush, gray fur against his nose. The body was here, but it was empty; the spirit had departed for a better place and time. One where Grayday was hale and hearty again, at his best.

With a shuddering sigh, he drew himself up and turned to Pema again, giving a slow nod. "I'm ready," he said, though he didn't feel it. Still, it needed to be said. He had to say it, even if it wasn't true. He stood, waiting for her to lead the way. "We can go."