Cassiopeia's View Jibbering, howling and chants in long dead languages

The boy nodded. Truly, he hadn't seen Praimfaya in so long that it was hard to say he felt relieved; he was more impassive than anything. He didn't subscribe to the notion of kru the way that Praimfaya and Dacio did, but she was still family in some sense of the word. He cared somewhere deep inside that she was okay, but he cared more about what this information meant for his sister. Blackhead had not attacked Praimfaya. Maybe she wouldn't immediately attack Isilmë either. His sister had always been a more suspicious beast than him, and unlikely to give away her identity easily to a stranger. She knew of Blackhead as well.

Dacio's next question made Dragomir cringe. Various emotions played across his face in the span of a second or two, most of them leaning toward anguish. She is not missing, he said on the tailing end of a soft growl. She left us. Just left one day, said she was going on a scouting trip to Moonspear, got struck by lightning or something and then decided she was just never going to come home. Dacio would probably be able to tell by the edge in the boy's tone just how he felt about that.

I didn't think Isi would look for her, but it's the only reason that makes sense to me. Licking his chops, the boy too looked past Dacio to the valley below, then asked, Will you keep an eye out for her? She's light silver, like ... like our mom, but her legs and tail tip are a bit darker. Then, because he didn't want to selfishly make this all about him and his sister, he asked, How is Praimfaya? Are she and her mom still with Diaspora? Are you with Diaspora as well?

Diaspora was, he thought, a good pack for the remnant Drakru in the wilds, not that he knew anything about their lifestyle.

NANOWRIMO: 322