Redhawk Caldera Overture: JCS

Grief was not even the right word for what Phox had felt that day. It was beyond that. No parent should outlive their child, and yet here he was, and Primrose was no more. Niamh had taken it hard as well, of course, and Phox wondered if they would make it out on the other side of this. Was there another side? Nothing felt quite the same now, even if he and his youngest son had not been as close. Figment had not returned either, and Phox had a feeling he would remain with the Frosthawks. That left Phox with zero sons here. It was painful beyond words.

But he went on, throwing himself into hunting in the wintry mix that fell down on the earth. It felt oddly similar to the rains that had come just a few months ago. Had it been longer ago that that? Phox couldn’t say. Time felt different now. There was only before and after the loss of Primrose.

He returned to the den with a skinny rabbit hanging from his mouth. Niamh needed to eat, and it was his duty to feed her. He said nothing as he came in and nudged the food toward her, and he responded somewhat stiffly to her embrace. It didn’t feel fair that they were here and Prim was not.