Sky Mesa on the wing

My pack has young.

She understood the weight of his gaze upon her, now. Merel paused in her eating to look at him. She responded in kind: “Well met, Kemal.”

Children. His own, or another’s? It seemed he had ventured far for their sake. She eyed the fallen carcass; it would feed them and their parents. But pups grew quickly; she remembered how her sisters had transformed—from sightless, whining lumps to laughing and rolling in the meadow with her, tugging at her tail and ears.

Strangely, that memory almost hurt more than the terror that followed. She could remember little of her flight, in truth; flame, darkness, howls. And smoke. So much smoke. After that—emptiness.

After that…

“Make sure you save some for yourself,” Merel snorted, eyeing the small chunk he took. “You’ll need to eat to keep up with them. They start out quiet, but that changes fast.”

She stood up as she finished the last of her chosen portion. Restlessness threatened to overwhelm her; she could not reflect. She could not pause. Even if she knew, deep down, she would never find who she searched for.

“I used to hunt for my sisters,” Merel offered by way of explanation. She smiled, and this time, it was genuine. “How far is your pack? I can help you carry back something for their mother, too.”

The offer surprised her. But it was his choice to take it or not; if not, she would melt away into the lowlands once more.