Moonspear when i found the angels were drinking wine

the snowbird flitted closer; arcturus could feel the stir of her breath, the movement of air and the distant resonating of her pelt's heat. don't, he fought against the urge, knowing it was both his own battle-exhaustion and his loss of blood that made him lightheaded and more stupidly needy than normal.

his gaze flickered open as the healer cleared her throat and spoke. a disillusioned rumble left the ostregan's mouth, which clenched shut tightly. in this hour -- maybe his darkest hour -- he did not see how he could ever forgive his brother. too tired to argue or even explain why he thought that way, arcturus took another deep sigh and only nodded feebly in response. it did not occur to him to even ask of kukutux and her sisters -- he was so tired, so aware of his own suffering, that he did not even realize the little bird besides him had her own hurts to heal.