the awful screaming of the lambs • pack meeting

Mordecai had been burying a small piece of game in a cache when Lecter's call raised for them all. Unnerving tension had settled over Ouroboros in places, and he had holed away himself, staying to the borders and keeping things secured and caches full. Keeping busy had been his way of dealing with what was becoming their own personal tragedy. But he had been keeping an ear out for Lecter's call all the same. Mordecai did not hear the anguished wailing of their resident, now absent leader, only the summoning note of their blood-stained second-in-command.

He made his way to the source of that call promptly, though he was not the earliest to arrive. He spotted the scarred hide of Sitri, and the frosted hues of Cara ahead of him; beyond them rested Lecter. His attentions were first to their acting leader, a submissive and apologetic greeting. Sorrow was a very palpitable being in their soon to be growing quartet. Each one of them torn and affected in a different way, he settled in between his two hunting companions. His greetings were just as quiet towards them; he gave Cara a friendly nudge, and Sitri a sad smile. Words, at least for the moment, escaped the tawny Ostrega, but even there around familiar faces he couldn't help but feel anxious, uncomfortable at the prospects of what was bringing them together today.