Pack meeting! It's been forever since one of these, and it's gonna be a BIG one. Join as soon as you can, guys! ^^
It was a tempest of moods for Jefferson. Hurricanes, tornadoes, earthquakes, typhoons--any other natural disaster that could possibly be used as a metaphor for anger and frustration could very easily be used and applied to the spinning thoughts in his head and sickness in his stomach. One moment, he was stomping angry, about ready to claw eyes out and shred the nearest thing to shreds. The next minute, he withdrew to the deepest, darkest corner he could find and stared into infinity. The only mood he couldn't find was happiness. Joy. No, there was no joy for Jefferson. Not right now... not anytime soon.
He'd stumbled his way out of the cabin that morning, three-legged and gimping. There was no energy, no drive to shift that day. The Patriarch knew what had happened. He knew it had been the reason for his recent illness, for the feeling of dread that had possessed his stomach and his being for days on end. Jefferson had been happy, glad to see the pack growing and a change in faces. Deuce and Lucifer were gone, out of his hair for good. He didn't have to kill himself working with DaVinci in rank beneath him. The new members had been getting along. The Patriarch had even managed to almost adopt Addison, although he hadn't really wanted or expected to, and had grown a soft spot for her. He'd been happy as the pack's leader for the first time.
That had been torn down and shredded apart in seconds. The world was falling down. Iskata was dead.
He stood outside the cabin, leaving little Addison inside where it was warm. She didn't need to see him when he was a monster. She didn't need to see him angry, frustrated, lost. Hurt. Standing in the cold, mid-February wind, Jefferson hardly felt the nip of the breeze. There was a light flurry of snow, just enough to distract a meandering soul but not enough to force creatures into hiding from the cold. Jowls were turned to the sky, inhaled deeply, and released a horrific, demanding howl into the heavens. It had the worst reverberation; its deepest ring was angry and pained. An eerie sound over a once peaceful land. We have things to talk about, it echoed. Get your sorry asses moving. His single green eye watched the puff of breath he'd released rise and dissipate into the wind. His bad arm hung limply at his side--he still hadn't managed to find or create a new sling for it--while his other hand remained tense and fisted on the opposite side. That meeting needed to happen, and it needed to happen now.