Quicksilver was gone. Under normal circumstances the Roux-Abrhen's absence would not have concerned Sinaaq except for the fact that he had been gone for some time. At first, the darkling had assumed what he had came to expect from his companion: that he had ran off to chase some tail, as he usually did; or perhaps had gone off to see if he could add the
Queen to his list of conquests. Sinaaq had never asked, never desired to pry and, truly, didn't care what the other male did. They were companions, sure, but that did not mean they had to be privvy to every detail of one another's life. Sinaaq was not Quicksilver's sitter and did not see reason to keep tabs on him twenty four seven. Days had dwindled into weeks and still no sign, no
word from or of Quicksilver. Too much time had passed for it to be a “conquest” trip and there was no way that Quicksilver had been after Cara — he'd have sought Sinaaq out a long time ago. Despite himself, Sinaaq hadn't realized that he'd begun to
count on Quicksilver's return to him like clockwork, and counting on anything, for the darkling was
dangerous.
Despite himself, Sinaaq had begun to see Quicksilver as something as a friend — albeit an annoying one but a friend nevertheless, and as usual Sinaaq was left alone. Eventually, the darkling had learned over the span of his short life thus far: everyone left. The Dark Priestess had died, Adlartok had left, Solia had left, and now Quicksilver, too, had left. Left Sinaaq all alone in this pack, with these wolves he did not and did not care to know, and the childish queen and her elder, angry, domineering mate.; and not for the first time Sinaaq found himself at a crossroads.
Initially, he did not know what to do. There was nothing to truly keep him in the Spine, with Quicksilver gone, but no real reason to leave besides his own persnickety judgments. With a dervisive snort the darkling set his fierce, fiery gaze of liquid gold to the sunset in the distance, settling like a pretty, tormented and seething statue, staring so ferociously and darkly at the horizon as if he were attempting to actually set fire to it as he contemplated what to do.
