Barrow Fields three(?) children and a (man)baby

7/11: so if this campus doesn’t have free wifi just assume that this is her last post here.. allowing pp of her following fam regardless

A score of wolves could’ve used their hulking prowess to tower over her, but the silver had been through with that from as early as she could remember to have detested it. So she faced Vercingetorix fully, scarred chin hefted, and realiated lowly: ”He travelled with us, guarded us. Someone had to watch them while Dennan was being driven away.”

And she hurried on, before either adult could get their words in, ”I had help, and we threw his goddamned ass over ze cliffs, I’ll have you fucking know,” the incremental rumble of a snarl weaving through her hoarse words the further she stressed on, ”what was I supposed to do, in that moment? Take them with me? Give that bastard ze chance to take them from us? I did what I thought was right, Vercingetorix. I did what I thought was best for us when you weren’t there.”

So he could dwarf her all he liked, and he could spit his curses at her. But she would not be remorse for protecting their children, even with her own person; a single mother as she’d been, with no other evident, practical ideas left in her head and only one soul — now vanished — to have relied on.

...Would she be allowed to follow her family into this ...horrendous sound?
The thought came and went just as her eye glimpsed Dragomir and Isilmë, turned from her, dubious and withdrawn. 

Her. I’ve done this.
Unseeing gaze went numb, and her agitation with it, with her words dying in her pale throat, and her waxen face gentling into bleakness. I should not be here.

Aurëwen hadn’t been born for war; not in the way Rosalyn was, the way Verx himself was. It showed in the wisping remnants of bloodlust in her eyes, and in the ragged, readied cant to her icicle’s figure — so irregularly settled into the botanist, where such aspects shouldn’t ever remain for long. 

But settled nonetheless, warrior or no, and all Aurëwen could do was lift a deadened, nerveless gaze to the inked male. To the russet she-wolf lingering on the fringes; no recognition at all in the silver’s eyes  (yet?)  clouded by a resigned, eking spitflame as they were. 

And now she was thoroughly worn, and promptly had no care in her left to give should these gathered think her an absolute, asinine fool for her choices — for her present presentation. If there was getting through any of this in one piece, then she would exhaust herself in explanation to Verx at length. For now, though...

Come what may, her wearied mind murmured.