Dawnlark Plains hair of the dog

no one called, and yet she arrived. perhaps it was the concentration of grief and the helplessness of it, perhaps it was the gentle shift in the world; her world, that drew her near. and there was her father, dead and cold, and her packmates, grief twisting their features. her breath hitched, and frantically she shoved the rising panic deep and away, blinked the grief from her eyes even as something in her chest snapped. she could not be like Cat in her shock, her grief, could not let her tears flow like pema nor could she give word to her plumetting grief like shale. 

no, adi - she could do what he did, pack her own grief away in a tight little box to sort through later. of course, this worked better in theory than actuality, and her chest knit into tight breaths and her steps were stiff as she eased herself beside Catori, fighting to push back the burning in her chest as she offered her silent presence beside the grief-struck woman. she did not trust herself to speak, even though a final da burned at her lips; she knew that as soon as she let the syllable go, the burning grief would win. 

and so she stuck close to Cat as Aditya tended to the pups, watching him as he drew them close. she brought herself to look to her father's body, so small in death, so empty of what had made him the wolf he was. she longed to press her muzzle to the familiar fur a final time, and yet could only remain rooted to Cat, naught but a whisper of grief finally escaping her muzzle as she sought continually to wage silent war against the tumultuous emotions pushing against her heart, her lungs, her chest.