Chimera Fields misery loves you

Night had started to come earlier now. Maybe it was that or maybe it was the fact that the storms seemed like they were finally running out of steam so they allowed him to see the transition from day to night instead of being this blurry mess that went from grey to black. So Mal had been out for one more patrol before the day would wrap, and finding Cupid's scent heading away from the territory, he went to follow.

The dark figure might have been mistaken for a rock if there wasn't a protrusion that looked suspiciously like an ear breaking the silhouette. Cupid was camping out here, eh? It wasn't too far of a walk back. What are you doing out here? was his bemused question, trotting on over to see. He'd expected a glare, but instead there was nothing. No turn, no stare. Uh. In a moment, the mood changed. The fear, Cupid? He ran over to nudge him, but no response and he was already too cool. The shriek of, NO! that came from him was wild, and he tried again to rouse Cupid from his slumber. 

He thought he had seen Cupid at his worst -- both in anger and in illness -- but no, this was the worst. No answers, no goodbyes. No more bridges to repair. And what about Caerus? What did he tell his son? What was this scene he had found? A torn piece of something that had looked like wood had blown a little farther away that he wasn't sure if it was part of the scene or not. Cupid's face had welts from something but Mal really hadn't run into bees, so hell if he knew what it was. But he couldn't be left out here. It was about the only clear thought he had, so he fumbled and failed but eventually was able to sort of hoist Cupid onto his back and start the trek home. His mind emptied as he trudged, the weight across his shoulders bringing back the pain in the one that wasn't fully healed. It was not fast progress.

Time passed, and then he was inside the borders a handful of yards and he slumped to the ground, Cupid's body falling next to him, both a mess from the world the weather had left. But who did he call for now? How did he explain to Caerus that he had no idea what had happened but that Cupid wouldn't be coming home again? In the pitch darkness, he didn't know. He felt hollow, a failure, and in the end he just stayed there, crawling closer to Cupid and quietly crying into his fur, on the one hand wanting to be found because he'd left his own voice somewhere back in the field and also not because he didn't want to be seen like this. It didn't matter that Cupid might very well have hated him, Mal couldn't return that particular set of feelings.