Arrow Lake we'll all be gone by the falling light

The clouds had passed from distant terrains and seemed to loom overhead menacingly with the dark grey promise of rain. The world had fallen into an eerie quiet, almost in reverence for the coming storm. Trench had spent the better portion of his morning watching the skies change color and tumble overhead. He had fluttered in and out of sleep but had found that the occasional touch of sunlight against his side was pleasant enough to rouse him after fifteen minutes or so.
 
Still very weak from the illness, the ink spot had not found the energy to return back into the den. The dirt bed that he had made for himself was fine. With a short yawn, Trench blinked away his latest nap from his eyes and turned them to the heavens. Two droplets fell down and landed against the pup’s dark nose. He blinked against it, but it did not bother him. Distant thunder sounded like a deep drum from several territories away. The young boy turned his head toward it and cupped his ears with interest.

Tags for reference only.

None of them were far from her sight, but careful consideration was taken with her darkest son. His lethargy followed him—Mahler treated him well, but it did not stop the mother from worrying. She found herself laying still at night, listening to the breaths from all three of her brood, counting the rise and fall of Trench’s chest and always relieved when morning light came and her boy had not succumbed to his illness.

@Stigmata was a soothing presence, though he spent his days with his older children. The man had become doting—if not torn from where to be, and she knew it affected his well-being. For now, she remained silent on the matter—but her opinion was only held from the worry that pressed her life in other areas.

The mother kept a watchful gaze upon her children on this day, and as the thunder rumbled in the distance and scarce few raindrops began to fleck at her pallid fur, she ushered @River and Argent to the den, away from the impending storm.

Trench was farther from them, and as she reached down to nudge her little warrior, she crooned softly. “Come on, my baby. It’s time to go in.”

The touch of her nose against his head was startling. Trench turned his sights upward, peering at the narrow length of his mother’s muzzle with childish perplexity. She breathed a reminder to him, ushering him inside. The young shadow glanced toward the open mouth of their den and breathed a quiet sigh.
 
With the illness that had taken hold of him, he had not been given the same chances to explore the outside world. All of this was for the best, as it had allowed him to heal and strengthen his system before venturing beyond what was safe and sound. Trench could not help but to feel a pang in his chest – something akin to melancholic longing – before turning his pale sights back to the creamy bridge of Ketzia’s nose.
 
“Ri’ now?” the child inquired in a soft voice. Something in his tones begged her for just five more minutes…

The longing in his eyes and the hesitation within his small voice gave her pause and the mother bear looked down to her tired pup. An ear flickered in consideration as a droplet of rain splashed upon the bridge of her nose, and her green eyes roved over the smaller form of her dear Trench, who had thus far beat all odds of what had been thrown his way.

Thunder rumbled once more in the distance and while it was clearly drawing closer, the pale sylph slunk closer to the ground to curl lightly against her son, her nose finding its way to gently chuff against the back of his nape in silent acceptance. "I've always enjoyed thunderstorms," she offered to him, her eyes skimming over him to fall upon his cherub features.

A large drop of water plummeted from the heavens and landed on the end of his nose, forcing his eyes to blink in shock. Then, upon realizing that the rain would cause him no harm, Trench looked up to his mother with a stretching smile and a faint wag of his tail. Something loving in Ketzia seemed to fold at the sight of her boy. She towered over him for a moment before she made herself more comfortable. Trench leaned back against the touch of her cold nose against the ruff of his nape. A single dark ear swiveled on his crown to catch the last grumblings of the distant thunder. He thought the sound was something magnificent – unlike anything he had heard before.
 
“What make the sound?” Trench inquired of his mother, swinging his head around so that he could gaze up to her. Then, the dark youth’s brow furrowed over his jade gaze. He scrunched up his muzzle in a strange expression before attempting to imitate the sound of the thunder against the mountain range. As small as he was, the sound was nothing more than a faint grumble that resonated within his chest.

His inquiry was not unexpected and the mother mused quietly at her answer. Some wove the tale of the divine above coaxing the ruckus of noise above them, but the slender woman held little to these beliefs—or, more forwardly, she put little thought toward the possibility.

“I do not know,” she hummed softly, her eyes gleaming as she studied the inquisitive nature upon her boy’s face, feeling a wave of gratitude that he remained with them now, and stronger each day. Mahler had come through for them.

“But it occurs mostly in the heat.” With a lilting smile, she shifted her weight, her eyes drifting from him to steal a glance at the sky as it rumbled once more, pausing thought only when the lightning flashed. “What do you think it could be?”