Dragoncrest Cliffs We can hear when we are hollow

A/N: dated to today, post-heda’s death

Pigeon-toed, hobbling everywhere. Perpetually drowsy, full of sighs. Almost into an amorous third week. And now, an abysmal hunger, and all of this, with a belly that had yet to ‘bump’. Because of her skirmish with those ridiculous Rusalkans, and not simply for the sake of her pregnancy, Aure had refrained from edging past Drageda’s borders. Yet, it didn’t stop her from from returning to the site of the reason as to why Raleska had assaulted and cursed her so. Aure, herself, knew she had acted sentinel at the crest of the cliffs when Eurycrates had been downed; alas, she hadn’t known him by name, but she had seen and heard it all. Wished she hadn’t.

Who she didn’t mind seeing, though, was Ephraim — at least, she assumed him to be. In the days that waned wartime and waxed the aftermath, the ivory skayona hadn’t actually met the burnished coywolf. Excursions to seek her brother, and returning only to reunite with him, had all but required her attentions. And now, with Vonn having parted to repay his debts and to pledge himself, Aure’s attention was now quartered between the kru, this tragedy, Elysium, and her copii that were yet to come.

Aure couldn’t let herself be donned in the veils of solemnity anymore than the kru couldn’t shake theirs. Wouldn’t allow herself to be, not even with her skirmish, since having revealed her bearing whelps. So, tottering in a so-sleepy, crotchety-like manner, the scarred she-wolf picked her way towards Ephraim’s post. And when she neared the younger, pearled a soft ”Buna“ towards him.