Dragoncrest Cliffs I - declare - BANKRUPTCY!

You're much too tiny to be fighting

bears,

darling!

Sudden darkness. A muffled, meaty thunk. Pain exploding across her face.

you're much too tiny to be fighting bears,

darling!

Darkness that subsided on one side but not the other;

The pain not at all.

It rippled through her body in waves, pulsing like a heartbeat, lingering in the wounds the brute had scored across her body.

Tiny tongues of flames upon her face.

Oh, her head.

Lilitu lifted it, then let it fall—slowly, carefully; it felt like her brains were free and loose, sloshing around her skull.

She was alive. She thought.

The world was half night. She blinked, and found she could not move her left eye altogether. Squinted, blinked again. The tears came, cascaded down her right cheek.

She began to moan, a ghoulish, mourning sound, a frightened girl in a sea salt cave.

It was a pitiful sound that came from the cave as Chacal arrived, visiting their third patient after having visited the boys to see how they mended. After this- and she told herself not to be long- she would roam the borders along the Tangle so that she could reinforce their markings.

It would only be another month or so until she would have to pace herself, save her strength for her unborn children. 

She brought a quarter of a rabbit for her. The rabbit’s haunches would give her some energy at least. She uttered a soft chuff before she stepped in. By the sounds of it, she would need something for the pain soon. 

One eye glittered in the darkness. The woman’s face was still swollen and puffy, misshapen by lacerations and inflammation. Chacal regarded her with a calm gaze; at least she had survived. Bears could do much more damage than this. 

”Easy, Chéri. Easy, you be safe,” She crooned softly, and nudged the morsel of food toward her.

A face of dark browns and golden eyes; a healer, offering her food. She thought it could be Arielle, at first, and her heart leapt even as her mind knew it couldn't be true. She let her working lid close for a moment, sighed, then opened it again, trying to focus more clearly on the wolf.

Thank you, she murmured. It was a kind gesture, and she knew she needed to build her strength back up—but the smell turned her stomach. It reminded her too much of her own flesh, so recently torn.

She tucked the meat gracefully as she could against her chest, clinging to it as if it were a talisman.

Where am I? Lilitu asked, licking her lips. She hit one fresh cut and sucked in her breath with the pain, tongue retreating much slower than it had appeared. I just. . .came to where wolves were. I've never been around this area before.

Once upon a time, a trip to the sea would have struck her as utterly fanciful. Now, she was living out some kind of horror story—

And why can't I see?!

Though the woman's face was disfigured, she could see gratefulness in the dull gleam of one tired eye The offering of food was accepted as one might take in an heirloom- clutched to her chest. Chacal smiled faintly and sat down, hoping the woman might feel well enough for a bit of company, even though she was disoriented and surrounded by strangers. 

"You be in de lands claimed by Sapphique,
We be situated on de coastline, far from mountain peaks." 

She did not know what Lilitu's frame of reference would be, or where she'd come from. Perhaps the pack's name might stir some form of recognition; she watched for a reaction with calm eyes. She felt Sapphique was a fortress, and had few (if any) real enemies. They could take in a stranger without worrying that she bled havoc in her wake. Few would rise to challenge a pack so strongly rooted in the sandy earth. 

"I am Chacal Dahomey-Rivaini, an' I be a leader here.
Do you remember your name, my dear?" She asked.

The woman sang to speak. Lilitu was entranced, and momentarily distracted from all of her woes. She clung to every word, and only realized she had been left breathless when it was her turn to speak; she sucked in a deep inhale, caught off guard.

Lilitu, she replied. Of Brecheliant—though I'm married to a prince of Akashingo.

She wasn't sure how far Pharaoh's reach extended, though she wouldn't be surprised if it touched even here on the coastline. She hoped that these wolves, if they'd heard of either, were friendly with her packs.

Bad thoughts brought her roughly back into the present, and she looked at Chacal of Sapphique, her lip slightly quivering as she asked, Why can't I see?

One half illuminated, the other half darkness. And she had a bad feeling about it, and didn't want to ask. . .but she had to know.

Brecheliant was a name that was somewhat familiar to Chacal, though the two packs seemed to have very little to do with another, given the fact that they seemed different, and distant. The packs that made their homes deep into the world away from the ocean were of little importance to Chacal. Let those who dwelled on mountains and forests and plains live their lives- they knew not what they were missing. 

The fact that she was married, however, was interesting- but not so much that she considered, for a second, that Lilitu should leave to go back to her husband quickly. The only worry would be if they came to find her, but easily enough they could dismiss any notion of hostility. Lilitu needed their help- and she would be welcome amongst them while she healed, and longer afterwards, if she wanted. 

"Lilitu; it be good to meet you,
though it is a pity it is while you are in so much pain. 
But you be welcome 'ere, while you get well again."

She assured her. There would be no reason to rush to her husband to tell him she was alright; she'd address that union only if it was requested that a message be sent. Surely, Chacal thought- she would be happier here than in the arms of a prince. 

"You be injured, Chéri, 
but from your left eye...You may never see."

The kind words were a temporary balm upon her pain—a respite that lasted just a few fleeting moments. Then Chacal sung-spoke again, and all of her worst fears were realized.

Hot tears welled up again, the salt stinging the fresh wounds upon her muzzle.

Oh, God. Do I look. . .awful? she said in a tiny voice, feeling as if she'd been cast into the deepest pit and now stared up at Chacal's face from the bottom of it. A light, shining. . .but very distant.

Lilitu had always prided herself on her looks: a plush, willowy frame, a beautiful countenance, a pair of gorgeous yellow-green eyes. She'd been captivated by her reflection in rippling pools more than once.

Was this some sort of punishment for vanity? she wondered.

She thought there was more fear than vanity in Lilitu's voice, though it didn't surprised her to hear that the woman might be horrified by her own appearance, now that it was so changed. She moved forward, so she might lay alongside the woman, and preen the fur that was silver, untouched by blood. 

"You will heal, dis I know, Chéri.
An' you may not look like yourself, for some time to be.
But you will one day, see yourself an' smile;
change suits us all, in time."

She wanted to assure Lilitu that she might look different- but that there was beauty in that, too.

Chacal's words were meant to be encouraging—and they were. But the kindness and grace within them broke the dam within her soul, and Lilitu pitched forward with a gasp, and the sobs came.

I'm sorry, she managed through her tears, utterly destroyed. You're so kind—you're all so kind—and I don't deserve this. I'm so sorry; I'm so, so sorry.

She leaned against the woman, breast heaving with emotion, tiring herself out even by sitting still.

It's so much, she whispered, teeth set in her lower lip.

She moved to brace Lilitu as she surged forward, off balance and wracked with sobs. Losing an eye was a serious affliction- and the healing process would be painful. Chacal imagine too that Lilitu mourned the loss of some beauty, though she hoped some day she might see her scars and recognize the battle she had survived. 

”What you did not deserve is de wounds you bear.
But you be every bit deserving of our care.”

The wounds I bear. Bear. She would have laughed at the coincidence of the word, had she not been so utterly shattered. 

Thank you, Lilitu murmured. She was beginning to tire again, having expended herself in tears and fears. I'm. . .I think I'll sleep some more. But can I ask you something?

She paused a beat, then went on: Why do you sing when you speak? It's beautiful—but I've never heard anything like it before.

Wraen, she thought, would have been fascinated with the woman. Every word was poetry.

Chacal nodded gently. Lilitu’s wounds were severe, and even though Chacal felt she would recover, her life would be changed forever. Such a traumatic event would be logged in her memory; the Tanzanite hoped that life with Sapphique would be kind to Lilitu. 

She blinked and nodded when the half-blinded woman made a request- and her question surprised Chacal. While no others spoke in the same fashion as her, so few had commented on her speech patterns that to her, it was completely unremarkable. 

She felt slightly self-conscious, now that attention was drawn to her, and for a moment, she struggled to find her voice. She found Lilitu’s curiosity almost touching, though, not intrusive. She summoned a faint smile. 

”If I do not sing, de words do not come.
I stutter, an’ stammer; it be troublesome. 
But my Maman, she taught me ‘ow to sing- 
An’ wid melody…It changes everyt’ing.”