She's like "oh my god"

Poor tartar. I figured I'd play off my absence like Mordecai's been sulking somewhere too. But I am pumped for this thread!

In the days following the demise of the original Spine leadership, silence had settled in over things. At least for Mordecai, who had taken to living like an outlier, withdrawn and lurking within the confines of their northern borders. The upheaval had left him with mixed emotions, and the losses they had gone through had tained his view of their grounds considerably. In a sense he felt loose of any debt he had held; he had for the time being lost the purpose in needing to prove himself to any one or particular thing. His brooding or lack thereof had not yet to come a head, though the flim of summer had begun to peel and erode from the region. The days still burned hot, but the nights had tingled with a chill familiar to him.

For days he considered many options, ranging from seeking his brother out along the coasts to simply vanishing from whence he had come. But those windows of opportunity — at least the latter — had closed. He idled, wraith-like in the late foliage and instead took watch of the life around him. He had spied those nursing wounds both visible and not, and had gone as far as to try and catch glimpses of the usurpers that had filed into their ranks. Mordecai had been surprised that there was no witch hunt to oust them, but it only solidified what he felt was becoming a sorry state of opinion in the air. Perhaps Cara had failed to keep her post; he had paid no more mind of their ongoing situation since Lecter had succumbed to the forces beyond his control.

Instead a once-subtle frustration ebbed up into his being as the days carried on, and it became the only thing that pulled him loose from his reverie. Just as in this instance, it was the unfamiliar cry of pain that drew him from his roost further up the uneven slope. He pursued it, only in time to see a lithe form sorely untangling herself from the wooded mass. He did not recognize her by appearance alone, but his senses told him he knew her otherwise. From the banks where Jinx had been slain, intermixed with blood and the scent-deadening waters. A low growl built in his throat, his gold eyes bored through the foliaged depths to her form. He wavered uncomfortably dominant, unabashed in his display to her. It spoke the volumes of his distrust, but he did not make any move to expand it into a full-blown threat.