Swiftcurrent Creek ill see the people i used, see the substance i abused, the ugly places that i lived

set for tonight
please allow @Rosalie and @Alessia to post first

The sprite does not quite understand the changes that have taken place within the last few hours. It has been explained, time and again, that there are new siblings abound — but it doesn’t make sense to him. There is no need for new brothers and sisters, when there are already several perfectly good ones — unless their parents mean to replace them. It makes too much sense to the boy, given the recent move from the den; perhaps they were simply making room for new children. Perhaps they are not satisfied with the ones they have.
He’d been some distance from the blood and mess when it happened, but the scents had drifted to him on the breeze, and it’d scared him. He had paced restlessly, imagining the new pups ripping themselves from Maman’s belly, conjuring the violence and gore in his mind with obsessive detail. They were going to kill her, and it seemed no one cared. But he did.

He’d only meant to check on her at first. He'd been so focused on assessing his mother for injuries, he'd hardly even noticed the newborns tucked against her belly. But then one of the tiny things had whined and squirmed, and some strange feeling had started to burn in his chest, and —
And now he’s so close he can feel the heat radiating from its tiny body, can hear the quiet thrum of its heart over his own racing pulse, and he does not trust himself. He is hyper-aware of his other mother asleep only feet away, of Rosalie’s steady breathing before him, and he knows he should leave now. But he doesn’t. He can only stare, hating the dark little creature more with every passing moment. Why does this useless, noisy lump deserve Maman’s attention, especially after the pain it had put her through? Why does she need new children?
She doesn’t, he thinks, lips peeling back to reveal his teeth. The darkness distorts the pup below him, and for a moment he thinks it’s looking at him, taunting him, and he can’t stand it. He lashes out, jaws closing around the tiny body with more force than he intends, and once his grip is firm he cannot seem to stop himself. The pup emits a deafening shriek, cut short as Zephyr begins to toss his head side to side in a violent attempt to make it stop. It works, and for a moment he is relieved — until it registers that the pup is no longer moving at all, that his mother is awake and screaming, that he has done something terrible —
And then he is running, ignoring the burning in his chest that tells him he needs to breathe if he is going to make it anywhere. All he knows is that he needs to get away.