Flycatcher Downs jagganath

dated the evening August 15. this bloody scene can be found/referenced from the evening of the 15th on.

he was hunting for rabbits when a ghost from his past assailed him— literally.

one moment, aditya trotted across the sparse grass, hawkish gaze fixed on the hare trail ahead. the next, he found himself grappling with a dark shadow, snarling and spitting, near foaming at the mouth for its rage. it was another moment before he knew who it was, and yet another before he could form words. not the right ones, either (but would any be?).

r-rajendra! he managed, stumbling backwards and away from the brute. the black-furred man bore down on him, hell glinting in his pumpkin eyes. kya hua? aap yahaan kyon?

but he knew. he knew.

bewaqoof! rajendra hissed, ears pinned back. bakwaas. tum samjhe kyon. oh, yes, he knew. and rajendra knew, too. radha. . . beautiful dark radha. . .  she must have told him. no, something else, it must be something else—

doosra kyon mere bachchon aapke jaise kyon dikhate hain?! kyon ve sabhi bhoore hain— kaale nahin?! tumane usaki chudai ki, aditya! the other wolf huffed like a man who'd run a thousand miles (he pretty much had, to find adi) and the hatred in his eyes grew tenfold, though his voice grew much quieter. a contradiction, until he spoke.

madarchod. . .main tumhen jaan se maar daaloonga.

rajendra, aditya whimpered, like a naughty, guilty pup caught stealing from his siblings, but no cries could help him now— mujhe maaf kijiye, but no apologies could help him now— please, he slobbered in common tongue, but no pleas could help him now—

he saw red, and the faces of his children, of dawn, of his children, of dawn, of his children—stone brook stone brookstonebrookstonebrookstonebrookand the pups that were ostensibly his that he'd never meet, faceless forever—and then he felt the guilt sear him worse than the pain of rajendra's assaults, the familiar pang of betrayal, failure, betrayal, failurebetrayalfailurebetrafairbrelfd—

ruko!!! aditya screamed, but a second too late; rajendra had ceased his attack, stepping back from the bloody heap at his paws. the black wolf sniffed, primly, as if just having finished a walk with pals, rather than ripping a former packmate to shreds.

aapke priyajan aapke bhaagy ko saajha kar sakte hain, rajendra said softly, coldly, staring at aditya. without another word, he turned and stalked off, burly shoulders hunched, just barely darkened from the fruits of the fight.

and yet another moment passed before the sentiment sank in, through every pore, like his blood to the earth. yet another moment passed before he saw rajendra's words for the threat they were.

he had three faceless pups, somewhere. but nearer than that, he had two very real, very present children—and he now was the greatest danger to their life. by virtue of his own foolishness, his own impulses, he put them at risk.

when aditya could once more draw a solid breath, he staggered halfway to his paws and dragged himself away, leaving bits of flesh and fur, blood and bile, in his wake.

whatever direction was opposite swiftcurrent creek. . .whatever place lay on the other side of the globe. . .that was his destination.

once more, aditya found himself in retreat. it always ended this way.