Dawnlark Plains I dreamt about you nearly every night this week
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Ooc — Thalia
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she'd pulled most of the prey from the cache, which was, all in all, not very much at all. they gorged themselves on fresh kill when a hunt was successful; maggots infested anything left in the ground too long, and decay occurred much too quickly. should they be desperate, the carrion could be eaten; but they were not, not yet. 

she dragged a mangy, half-rotten hair away from the rest, planning to bury it when she'd poked and prodded through the rest of the contents. the fawn had been placed near the rendezvous, and she expected it to be gone, mostly, by morning. 

she kept waiting for guilt to descend like a cloud of blackflies, and yet, her brief union with the male did little to bother her. she felt nought for him, nor did she care to repeat what she'd done. but she did not regret that she had, at least not entirely, the experience and the brief pleasure it'd brought her. 

she set back to work, ignoring the maggots that writhed on the ground; the way she saw it, they were an add-on that made a lukewarm, stale piece of prey a bit more palatable.
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Ooc — mercury
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#2
With Pema in the very last stages of her pregnancy, Shale was a donkey on the edge. He was sure he was driving her up the walls with his constant questions--"How are you?", "Are you hungry?", "Do you need anything?", "What can I do?"--but the questions were, in truth, the only thing keeping him from going mad. Everything bad that could happen to her or the babes was ever-present in his mind, and haunted his dreams.

He was joyful, sure--but he'd never been this scared before. The fear was a jagged edge on that joy, cutting, ruinous.

Much to Pema's relief--and his own, too--he left the den site and wandered toward one of the caches, looking to make himself useful. Dawn was there, sorting out the rotted stuff. His face fell as he saw her, knowing that the last time they had properly interacted was next to Grayday's freshly dead body, when she'd been grieving and he'd been out of his mind.

Ears flattened with remorse and embarrassment, he strolled up to her with a soft chuff, halting a few feet away. "Hey, Dawn," he greeted, trying to keep his tone casual. The ghost of a smile lit his face. "How are you?"
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she paused in her task when a familiar voice set off a small spike of alarm in her chest, and she raised her muzzle in order to level it in Shale's direction. she appraised him a moment, twice, before offering her own greeting.  "hello, uncle. I'm alright." she pushed her lips into the outline of a small smile, noticing the steadier voice, the ears tilted in embarrassment. 

motioning to the prey, she asked then, "want to help? it's not a great way to pass the time, but -" she faltered, not quite sure how she could sell it without giving away the fact that she wanted to speak with her uncle without feeling as if she were watching him slip into the deep end.
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"It needs to be done," Shale finished her sentence, smiling more broadly. "Of course, I'll help." He tucked in beside her, nosing through the cache in search of rot. He was quiet for a little while, silently working, but everything he'd wanted to say to her churned through his brain; he was suddenly afraid to say it aloud.

He needed to, though. He couldn't keep dancing around it.

"Dawn, I'm sorry," he said, looking up at her. "For losing my head, when Grayday died. I shouldn't have put you all through that. Not then, not ever." He lowered his head again, toward the cache, regret blooming over his face. "I hope you can forgive me for it."
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she assembled her thoughts quickly enough, made easy by the fair amount of times she'd imagined speaking to her uncle after what she'd seen, what he'd done. still, her inquiry took a while to worm it's way up her throat. by the time words sat half-formed on her tongue, he was already speaking, and she allowed her own to fade (with just a little relief that she didn't have to broach the topic)

molten gaze met his steady, and she paused only a moment before responding "of course I forgive you uncle. I - cant' understand all you've lost, and won't try to." she wanted to demand he never do it again, never cause the kind of helplessness that had struck her then. yet she only lapsed into silence.
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He nodded, glad that she accepted his apology, and a sheepish smile bloomed over his features. "You've lost a lot, as well," he murmured, hoping she wouldn't discount her own struggles so readily in order to soothe him. She had every right to grieve, too. "You've been strong. Remarkably so. He'd be proud."

Shale continued to sort in silence, nose wrinkled as he wrestled out a particularly foul-smelling rabbit, rotting at the belly. He set it aside, the distaste falling from his face as he looked at Dawn again. "Thank you, Dawn," he said sincerely. "For accepting my apology. You didn't have to. I wouldn't blame you if you didn't."

He thought of Sunny, and frowned suddenly. He hoped the boy would return eventually, so he'd have the chance to make amends with his nephew as well. For them to part on such a sour note disturbed him; it was one of the foremost topics on his mind, these days.
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at her uncles comment, she dipped her head. "I've got to, don't I?" the words felt empty on her tongue. he didn't know about the nights she woke every few moments, everything she'd pushed down so far allowed to bubble up in the emptiness of night. she bent down to pick at a long-dead squirrel, deciding the tiny corpse wasn't salvageable before tossing it alongside the rabbit. 

her gaze softened at her uncle's words. "grief makes us do things we wouldn't, normally." gaze furrowed at his frown, canting her head a fraction as if to ask a silent question, subtle enough that he could choose not to answer.
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"Yeah, you do," Shale agreed, but then he shook his head, not willing to accept her writing off her strength so easily. "But not everyone gets there. Some just let themselves fall apart. You've done well." He pressed his muzzle to her shoulder, hoping she would accept his praise, let herself bask in her accomplishments, for once. Shale knew it was not her way, but still. . .

His lips pulled tight as he thought of his own moments of weakness. "I have never dealt with grief well," he murmured. A darkness bloomed behind his eyes, windows to the past. If she had seen him after Lucy, the babes. . . She would not recognize him. He wouldn't want her to recognize him.
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she pushed what remained into the cache, feeling heavy. when her uncle spoke, she said nothing, did not contest him and pushed her muzzle into his shoulder. when he offered his admittance did she pull back briefly, regarding him. "you're still here. that's all I - we - need." she doubted anyone dealt with grief well, but her uncle did so in a way that beneath her forgiveness frightened her still. she swallowed, thinking of his pups and knowing she could not allow them to suffer, to dance close to injury or that whispered possibility - death, not ever. 

she withdrew and forced a small curve onto her muzzle. "I'll get rid of this." if help was offered, she'd refuse it. shale was himself, here, and that was good enough for her to stop dredging throw their grief. she turned and began to drag the soiled pieces away, to bury them someplace they could decompose undisturbed.