Meadowlark Prairie what was and what shall be again

She hated the way he did that. It fucking irritated her to hear him speak so softly in response, to forgive her for all her wrongdoing - even those toward him. Nyx wasn't sure why she always expected him to berate her for them when all Dirge had ever done was accept who she was and what she became. She probably would've been pissed off if he'd done a disappearing act on her! The tawny Ostrega frowned to herself, yellow eyes averting guiltily to her paws.

It seemed the only one unwilling to let go of the past was Nyx herself.

But she'd tried! Oh, how she'd tried. For a time she thought she had, but it was difficult when the first thought of each new day was the memory of murdering of her own cubs. Nyx allowed her brother closer and, sending his weariness, made to close the distance herself. She reached out to him, muzzle extended to bury her snout among the mahogany of his ruff, and stepped in near to him if he'd allow. "I'll never deserve how good you are to me," she managed a smile into his fur, a snort of a laugh. He went on to question her whereabouts, her wellbeing, and she drew back to lift her gaze and once more look upon his face.

"In the mountains," she glanced briefly over a peppered shoulder, "I've been with a pack called Diaspora since the Summertime. Before that, after I left your weald," she sought his eyes again, "I visited Mother in Winterheart and stayed there for a while."

He'd have questions about that trip, surely, and so left the floor open as his for the taking.