Silver Creek cult of the dioskouroi

In the early mist of dawn, Makhai discovered his Queen absent again. Gone, again. The Prince tore a bloody path through the forest in his search, not bothering to call for @The Umbra. She had been careless. Let her follow the trail he left, if she paid enough attention even for that, he thought. Broken branches and crushed foliage scattered with bright red droplets, dead foxes lying splayed where they had died and sprays of coyote blood in fleeing trails out of the forest. It would have been easy to follow him.

His rampage ended where the Queen's trail left the forest. Makhai snarled wordlessly, rounding back toward the creek with a short howl to @Europia, a brief but firm message: stay put until I get there.

The Umbra woke with a start as the scent of blood—royal and other—reached her senses. She scrambled upright and burst out from her den, a snarl erupting from her as she followed the scent.

She dove in and out of the shadows, taking note of carcass after carcass, droplets of blood that splattered the ground. She smelled the unmistakable scent of Makhai on the trail and her stomach sank. The young Prince was in danger. Why else would there be blood?

She hadn’t realized the true reason for this trail until she heard his snarl and call out to Europia, the request to remain behind sent her hackles to rise.

Thalassa. 

The Queen’s scent was faint here on the edge of the forest, yet Makhai’s was strongest. She found him by the creek, her chest pulsing with her efforts to reach him.

Makhai—what has happened? Where is the Queen?

You, the Prince snarled, rounding on the guard at once. She was bold to show her face now, though hiding would have gone no better for her. Where were you when our Queen disappeared in the night? Is guarding her not your duty? Or perhaps you were part of the conspiracy to take her. He all but spat the accusation, tensing for a moment as if he might strike her.

Instead he turned away, still bristling.

See to Europia, Makhai snapped after a moment, not wanting to see the guard's face. He hadn't meant the accusation, not truly, but she would hear no apology from him. I will follow shortly.

He whirled on her, accusation flying easily from his lips, his anger washing over her. She remained still, her face stoic in the onslaught. The Umbra would allow this childish behavior, only because she knew that the young Prince was worried for not only his Queen--but for his sister. 

However, royal or not, respect was earned, not demanded. And she would remember this morning.

Words left her, calm and collected. I will not beg for forgiveness for fulfilling my own needs, Your Highness. Perhaps, your anger should lie in that of your sister--it is not uncommon for her to sneak off on her own. 

And she turned away, returning to Europia.