Moonspear Stiffen up that upper lip.

The smell of charred rock had only grown stronger as they approached the foot of the mountain, and Lilitu was grateful for the mouthful of herbs to mask the pungent odor. But it did nothing to soothe the cataclysmic scene. 

Boulders had tumbled down, the face of the mountain in tatters, as if some giant monster had came and clawed it to bits. Trees felled by the impact littered the slopes like scattered matchsticks. It was eerily quiet, only the wind and occasional screech of a bird of prey to keep them company.

Stay near me or @Bridget, @Ibis had warned her, and so she had. With one or both of them in tow, she began to climb the less steep part of the mountain, slowly making her way toward the worst of it.

Hello? she called out, voice muffled because of the plants. Her summons bounced off the rocks, shivering into the air. Hell—

She stumbled suddenly, dropping the bundle. Ugh! Lilitu spat, looking around for where it had rolled. She peered down at the log upon which she'd tripped, blackened, charred—

Oh, oh no. It had hair; this was no log at all, but instead. . .

The girl skittered backward with a yelp, staring at the leg. A long, ivory bone protruded from flesh and fur, jagged at the top. There was no way of telling what color it had originally been, but all she could see was her father's long dark limbs, so graceful and elegant—

P-Papa? Lilitu whispered, and the last syllable dissolved into a violent retch. She vomited up her last meal, trembling all over, the world spinning suddenly and painfully around her.

Bridget's fur was on end as they explored the wreckage that was once a mountainside.  She wasn't easily shaken but even this was a lot for her, and Lilitu was young to be exposed to such a scaled tradgedy.  

The place was fairly sound now, but the medic went with caution as she listened for anything that might be alive here.  There is no way, she thought silently, but that was the job.  If anyone was here, they were gone now.

Lilitu's yelp sent her running back to the girl, and when she stopped, it was to see a body.  There were signs of others, and Bridget's ears pinned back.  Hey.  Nothing we can do for this one.  C'mon. She kept her voice level as she gently, but firmly, tried to lead the girl away from it.

Hey——nothing we can do——this one——cmon—

Bridget's words were interrupted by her sudden onslaught of weeping, punctuated by gags. When they finally sank in, she whipped her head around to stare wildly at the young woman. B-but what if it's P-Pap-pa? Lilitu hiccupped, face drawn in agony. We g-gotta tell M-Mama—gotta t-tell—

Only bile, this time, splashed upon the rocks. She sniffled, her stomach feeling as if it had sank into her toes. She looked at the leg, and all she could see was Akavir. His kind, pale eyes; his handsome face. 

Was this all that was left? Would they find Arielle's remains here, too?

No, no, she moaned, rocking on her paws. Nothing seemed real; everything had changed. She was sucking in shallow, whooping inhales, unable to get a good breath between the sobs and the nausea. G-gotta find Mama. Where's my Mama?!

Her voice was the only thing among the deathly silence, a keening refrain.

Ahh shit.  Bridget glanced sideways, then stepped around, setting herself firmly between the younger wolf and the body and attempting to catch her eyes.  She'd lock in on them if she could.

Lilitu.  Listen to me.  Her voice was firm, but she kept it gentle.  That isn't your father.  I promise.  It is a stranger that we can't help.  We need to find someone we can help.  She hoped that she could break through the panic, but her stomach curled a bit.  This was a lot even for her and she was an (albeit unseasoned) medic.  At her age, the most Bridget had been forced to deal with was the occasional cut or gore wound.

If that didn't work, Bridget might be forced to drag her away, but she really didn't want to resort to that without attempting the alternatives.

Lilitu——listen to me——isn't your father——can't help—

Slowly, surely, Bridget's voice of reason began to pierce through the anxious, mournful haze that had settled around her. She sniffed, still choking a little on phlegm and sobs, giving a little nod, even as she still stared at the ground.

Okay, Lilitu mumbled. Okay. Okay. We can—g-go. We can go. Let's go.

Like a cat against legs, she pressed herself to the healer briefly, gratefully, then pulled away. She didn't—she couldn't—look at the lonely limb again. All she saw was Akavir here, and all she wanted was to go further up the mountain.

But what if it gets worse up there?

Never mind. All she wanted to do right now was go home. But she couldn't. She had to keep going up. No matter what she saw. No matter what they found.

This sucked.

Thankfully the words worked (somewhat). Bridget could tell that the girl was still freaked, with very good reason, and she stayed close as she led them away and further.  There wasn't time to search every rubble pile, so Bridget was mostly looking and listening, keeping alert for any shift or any sign of life.  So far they'd found neither.

She could have brought up her dad's absence as a way to assure her he was nowhere near here, but she'd seen the way he looked at his children.  No man like that stayed away without reason and that alone made Bridget hesitate.  She was no counselor, especially with kids.  Instead she went the safer route.

Are you hoping to be a medic, one of these days?  It was one of the only reasons she could think Ibis would bring her out here rather than leaving her in the care of someone back home.  It was good preparation, but intense.

Ah, changing the subject. She was familiar with that tactic, and although she usually railed against it, Lilitu seized this opportunity quickly. Even if her answer came in the form of a shake of her head, a muffled denial.

I dunno, she went on, sniffling. What's. . .I mean, what do you do as a medic? If it's stuff like this, I don't think I could do it.

It was amazing how a traumatic experience could change a person wolf. The normally gregarious girl had reverted back to a timid, almost childlike state, peering at Bridget under sodden eyelashes. She tried to think about the conversation at hand, but thinking about healing just made her think about the leg, and the leg made her think—

NO!

It wasn't him. It couldn't be him. It wasn't him.

She kept walking and, from a subtle glance here and there, noting how Lilitu's expressions traveled.  She seemed to be calming down some though something told Bridget it might be a while.  She couldn't imagine losing a parent; she'd left her own behind, after all.  But it didn't seem much fun.

Her diversion worked at least.  It definitely isn't all this, but seein as this is the first I've seen anything like it, I guess I can't promise.  Bridget answered, her smile only faltering for a moment before she regained it, thinking of her trade as a whole.  But helping is kind of the job.  You get injuries, yeah.  Sickness too.  But then there's this whole other part where you get to take something that's broken and make it right again, and that's pretty cool if you ask me.  She hadn't thought so at first, when she'd been forced to do boring work with the pack healer rather than hunting with the rest of the faerie children.  She'd come around, though, seeing Leticia work.  She didn't just help others physically... she'd sorted their minds too, when they were scared or upset.  It didn't look as neat as other trades on the surface, but after a while, it got stuck in her in a way she couldn't shake.

Oh, well, that was good. Well, not good. Better, though. That it wasn't all this grim was certainly better. Lilitu felt a little more at peace at the notion of it—putting something broken back together. That was much more to her liking, although. . .they couldn't find the owner of that missing leg and return it? Place it back where it belonged?

Maybe she was being childish. It probably didn't work that way. But it was a nice thought, and it got her mind off her father, at least.

How long have you been a medic? she asked, wondering if Bridget had gotten into it early or if it had taken some time. Lilitu didn't really know what she wanted to do with herself, with her life. Mama was a leader. Perhaps one day, she could be a leader, too.

Being a leader seemed far superior to dealing with dismembered bodies.

A year or so.  I've been training longer, but the title wasn't mine until I left.  My mentor always made sure my head never got too big.  Bridget snorted, but was clearly fond of the woman despite her comment.  She missed having someone to learn new material from.  And the few times she'd earned praise from the medic, she'd known for sure she'd earned it.  Leticia didn't give compliments often.

There's a lot of knowing to it, but some of it's instinct.  The hardest lesson was this one, knowing your limits and when the blame wasn't yours.  Bridget felt her attention drawn back but didn't turn, just kept walking.  I don't mind teaching, regardless of what you learn today.  If they found no one on the mountain, Bridget could still show her a trick or two if she had it in mind she might like to learn.  It wasn't something she'd chosen for herself and she didn't mind if the girl felt similarly turned off on the path.