Dawnlark Plains no, they won't be home tonight

@Pema

Days blended into nights, nights into days. And still, Grayday did not rise. Shale had drifted in and out of fitful slumber, sometimes soothed by dreams, other times, plagued by nightmares. Every once and a while, he'd touch his nose to his brother's side and find the stiff, cool skin of before. This he didn't understand, for while the outside observer could clearly see he was dreaming, Shale's dreams were so vivid as to be real to him.

And in dreams, Grayday was alive. Very much so. So these dreams must be reality, and the blurred, barren, empty existence on the plains was a recurring nightmare. Right?

Shale had slept the warm afternoon away, heedless of the rolling clouds that swept in, heavy with rain. The sun had just descended below the horizon, the moon rising and any stars not covered beginning to peek out. It was a peaceful late spring evening, but in his dreams it had been the depths of winter--but a bright winter at that. Sameth's river was frozen over, the land blanketed with snow.

They'd romped across the open land, showers of ice flying in their wake. Day had dared Shale to catch him, an endeavor he was more than happy to undertake. He'd just about caught up to his bragging brother's tail when a distant rumble of thunder woke him, reverberating in the ground.

One eye popped open, his head resting a few feet away from Grayday's neck. His gaze rested on a crow, perched near his brother's head. It began to industriously pick at his mouth, looking for the fleshy bits.

With a snarl, Shale leapt to his feet. The bird, startled, began to fly away, but somehow--despite his grogginess--he was able to pounce and grab the back end with his forepaws, bringing it back down. He took its neck between his teeth and started to slam it against the ground, each thud punctuated with a muffled curse.

"Fuck--" Slam. "You--" Slam. "Fucking--" Slam. "Piece--" Slam. "Of--" Slam. "Shit--"

On and on he went, his rage boiling over like water too long on a stove, until the crow was virtually boneless, a bleeding heap of charcoal in his mouth. He dropped it, letting out a sobbing breath, and stumbled over to Grayday, examining where the bird had pecked. There were puncture marks, but no blood. Thankfully so.

No blood because he is dead, the rational part of his brain remarked, somewhere buried deep. But it was not the rational part of his brain that had killed the crow, nor was it the rational part of his brain that kept him by Grayday's side for days on end. Just as it had after Lucy's death, something within him had snapped. A part of him was gone--and it was unclear whether it would return soon, if at all.

She had been asleep. Tossing and turning alone in her den. She had been having cramps. Unsure if they were simply later term pregnancy cramps or ones brought on by stress. She worried that Day's death and Shales demeanor would have an effect on her children. Logically she couldn't see how it would, but in her mind, as she slept she thought of it constantly. About the pack, he responsibilities, her children and Shale. Where is he? Where has he gone? Why did he leave me? she dreamt thoughts racing through her head before a loud thundering woke her.

Her body was tense as she woke up and she could feel the pups kicking. She took a sigh of relief as she came to terms with the fact that she was having a dream. The pups began to settle, but it only made her feel more lonely as she looking around her dim lit den and once again saw that Shale was not by her side. She had seen him now and then in passing, always by Day's former side.

It was late in the night and she thought about trying to go back to sleep but heard shouting. She could recognize Shale's voice and made the struggling effort to lift her enlarged body from the ground. When she came to the scene she saw Shale standing over Day, and black feathers scattered around. She walked up to him and rested her head on his shoulder, "Are you okay?"  she asked, both referring to how he felt about Day and also to whatever had happened with that bird. She could see here and there little sections of Day's pelt that had become penetrated by bird beaks or decay.

So absorbed in checking on Grayday was Shale that he didn't notice the approach of his mate, and shuddered when she touched him, flinching away. Like a wounded animal, shoulders hunched, he stared at her, eyes dark, hollow globes in his head. It took a couple of moments for her words to make sense, to reach him.

"They keep p-picking at him," Shale stammered, taking a ragged breath. In sudden exasperation, he kicked some dirt over a feather by his paw. "They won't leave him alone. Cawing and crowing. They're trying to eat him."

He didn't understand the fascination. Birds flew over his head all the time; occasionally they'd shit on his head, but that was the extent of his interactions with the winged creatures. But they'd started to descend upon Grayday, their gazes hungry and depraved. He'd scared away several birds, but the crow had been the first he'd killed since keeping vigil at the body; it would not be the last, he reckoned.

"I don't understand, Pema. I just don't." Shale hung his head, swallowing. "I feel like I'm falling. Like I've fallen off this cliff that just lasts forever." He had been afraid of hitting the bottom, at first, but now it seemed like the landing, however painful, would be better than being forever suspended in the air, gripped by terror.

When she went to rest her head on his shoulder he shuddered away. Looking at her in a state of shock, like he didn't even know who she was to him. I made her heart sink a little, the last couple days all she wanted to was to rest with Shale by her side and now he moved away from it.

He commented on how the birds were picked at him, angered by them. She could understand, it would be hard to see the corpse of a loved one left out to decay and be eaten by birds. She wondered how long the family tradition would last once the body became really bad and rancid, though it was already beginning to move into that state. She remembered what Dawn had told her that he didn't think that Day was dead, but merely sleeping. She had given him his time, but it was time to come back to reality.

"Shale..." she said softly and lowered her head to that she could look into his eyes as he hung his head. "Shale, Day's not going to wake up. You know that right?" she spoke softly wanting to be comforting, but also make sure she was being straightforward with her words.

Her words picked at him like the birds had picked at Grayday, and his first, fleeting instinct was to bare his teeth, treat her in kind. It faded quickly, replaced by a ripple of fear and then the crippling exhaustion that had came and went over the past few days, interspersed with dreams. His face morphed through these emotions alarmingly quickly, finally smoothing out to bland, impassive.

"I always wonder whether I should have waited a little longer," he said, staring at his paws. He didn't see the ground, the long plains grass, but the cool stone of a mountain den. "Poppy died first. She was youngest. Then Dove, Liam. Jack held on for as long as possible--he was strong, like Grayday--but then he was gone, too. We buried them, and moved on."

Bitter, he struck at the ground, twice, three times, before ceasing, panting slightly. "I just think--what if I had waited? What if I buried my children alive? I think that maybe if I had waited just one more day, I would have my babies back. They would have woken up."

Shale swung his head up to look at Pema, feeling as if someone was strangling him for how tight his throat was. "He's stone, cold dead--I know that! I fucking know that," he repeated, trailing off. He cast his gaze toward Grayday, breath coming up in a heaving sob. "But maybe I just wait a little longer. . .if this all turns out to be a dream. . .goddamn it, I can't leave him. I can't."

His shoulders shook as he cried, legs trembling with the effort to stay upright.

At first, he didn't say anything and Pema worried that he might lash out at her. Howl had done the same thing when she confirmed Heartha's death. He came to terms with it much faster than Shale had, but fortunately, Shale didn't end up lashing out at her. Instead, he talked about Lucy and his former kids again. Something that would always be in the back of his mind she thought.

She stepped forward and attempted to hold him in a hug as he spoke if he would allow it. This was a hard time for his especially, and so was that moment in his past but he needed to know, "Don't say that Shale. Don't put yourself through added unnecessary hardship. You did all you could and in the end, you gave them a burial. Nothing more, nothing less." she said when he spoke of possibly burying his children alive. "Waiting one more day wouldn't have changed anything then. And waiting more days isn't going to change anything now. It's been almost a week. You've given him plenty of time. Let him rest now." she said trying to end her statement softly.

He began to tremble and declared that he wasn't going to leave him.  "He's already gone Shale. His body is still here... and will be here in the morning. But that's not Day. Day left in peace and a part of him will always be with us. But this..." she said referring to the body, "Isn't it." she said trailing off.

"Please Shale... Please come back to the den. I miss you." she pleaded.

She pressed against him, and the smallest flame rose within him, a tiny bit of warm comfort. Amidst all the ice that had settled in his body, it felt good. He breathed in her scent, so familiar and yet changed now, as the puppies grew within her. Their pups. His pups.

Grayday had wanted him and Pema to be together. Their last full conversation had been about the matter, with him letting down his brother. Now he'd never know--Day would never play with his children, nor smirk in the background as he and Pema cuddled. The idyllic future he'd imagined for them all was gone. Well, not gone. But changed, just as Pema's scent had.

"I'm sorry," Shale said, not knowing whether he was speaking to Pema or Grayday. He hung his head. "I miss you." Again, an ambiguous statement.

But as he lifted his head to look at his mate, the fog that had settled over his eyes had somewhat lifted, and he saw her clearly for the first time in days. Not a shadow, rendered insignificant by Grayday's passing. Pema. Beautiful, radiant, mother-to-be Pema. He'd spent so much time fretting over bringing his brother back to life that he'd forgotten about those still alive--and those yet to come.

"I'm sorry," he said again, this time meaning it only for her, his gaze holding hers.

He was quiet for awhile and at first, she feared that what she had said wasn't getting to him. That he would remain with Day until his body became bones or even ash. But as he spoke his attitude seemed to change. She wasn't sure if was talking to Day or her. Maybe both for different reasons.

She felt cruel for taking him out of his fantasy. As it seemed to make him happy, even if it was a delusion. But he couldn't stay in denial forever, sooner or later the real world would catch up to him. If not now, surely in two weeks when she would pop her cub's buns out of the oven.

He apologized again this time looking directly at her. She meet his gaze before resting her forehead against his. "I know."  she said in a soft whisper. She stepped forward and offered him a hug before nuzzling her head against his and requesting, "Come on. Lets go home and get some rest. We could all use it."  she said referring to herself, Shale and their litter.

He pressed his forehead back, almost painfully so, gritting his teeth and shutting his eyes. The fantasy he'd crafted in which Grayday would wake up was slipping away, and with it, the blanket of apathy that had settled over him. Peeled back, grief was exposed once more, rippling over his body in fiery spasms. His stomach heaved in several consecutive sobs, and he nuzzled his face into Pema's neck, taking a long, ragged breath.

"Okay," Shale whispered, suddenly exhausted beyond measure. "Let's go." He pulled back, looking at her for a moment, before his gaze turned to Day's body once more. Lingering over, studying each detail. He knew that when he returned, it would be changed--decayed, scavenged. Soon, there would be naught but bones and a bit of sinew holding it all together. His brother, as he knew him, was no more.

Shale dipped his head, running his muzzle along the carcass, making low, moaning sounds in his throat. He took in the last vestiges of the scent that still lingered, the scent that he'd known all his life. Felt the plush, gray fur against his nose. The body was here, but it was empty; the spirit had departed for a better place and time. One where Grayday was hale and hearty again, at his best.

With a shuddering sigh, he drew himself up and turned to Pema again, giving a slow nod. "I'm ready," he said, though he didn't feel it. Still, it needed to be said. He had to say it, even if it wasn't true. He stood, waiting for her to lead the way. "We can go."

She knew that his time of greaving was not over, but she was happy to see that at least for a time he had come to his senses long enough to see this wasn't the proper way to go about things. If things were different she may have left him there till the body fell apart before his eyes. But as it was he would be a father sooner rather than later and Pema was not prepared to raise their children alone.

She wanted him at her side through this, like he promised. It seemed as though he simply needed alittle reminder of this during this troubling time.

She gave him one more affectionate nuzzle before walking him back to the den.