Only the heaven moved the stars, but they did not belong up there, resting against the immerse velvet roof. It was no surprise to anyone that the young male ached for the familiarity of the safe caves, inside a territory that they no longer belonged to. Why? What was so much better with this place? The boy would always insist that he had been forced out of Anathema, but if his family had let him be and walked away without him he would always follow. They were more important than the darkness. Nights were brighter now as the world turned warmer, but deep shadows could always be found by those who searched for them. He knew that the seasons took turns, and one day the night alone would again have the strength to fully embrace him.
There were changes he liked, and his fathers words had proved true once and for all. Pandemic was chained to earth, and the two other gods would protect him from Tak, though he was not all that easy to scare anymore. Nothing bad had ever happened in the darkness, and he had reached the conclusion that it was foolish to fear something that could simply be a story. His father firmly believed, but Pan had never seen these gods that he spoke of. As long as Salvia remained by his side, it couldn’t be all that bad to belong to Tak. The god never demanded anything from him anyway, if he even existed. For darkness was something the young D’Angelo adored, but it was always empty.
Trees loomed tall above the oversized child as he slowly made his way through the forest nearby his home, following a withering trace of some family member that he could not pin a face to just yet. He was a rather shy boy and not a very social butterfly either. He preferred silence and those he knew well and even amongst those he failed to be the life of the party. He had yet to discover the entirety of his new home. He preferred to stay close to his parents and his one remaining sibling. But he could explore a little on his own, at least.
The rabbit dangled from her jaw haphazardly, its limp and lifeless body stained red. Months ago, Eris could not have hoped to bring down prey even so harmless and helpless as a rabbit, and now, she was a hunter. Certainly, the coyote hybrid was not so proficient with this skill as her teacher, her master, her leader, but she was getting better, and she could provide for herself, if necessity demanded such a thing. The green-eyed hybrid meandered across the territory slowly, considering where she might eat.
Salsola had staked itself only a small claim, and The Auxiliary was glad for this. Anathema's territory was vast, and not only did it spread horizontally across the earth, but vertically, as well, in those immense and deep caves they called their home. Salsola's territory had its secrets as well, to be certain, but they did not require a large parcel of land. They were a small pack, and the smallness of their territory would lend to easy defense, should they ever require such a thing. The hybrid held no love in her for their easternmost neighbors, and she did not put it past the coyotes to draw blood, given the proper situation.
For now, however, the woman did not fear their neighbors. No Infernian scouts had made their way uncomfortably close to Salsola, and so the hybrid was content to wait for their action, as she had planned. There was no thirst for vegeance within the woman -- she was not a creature driven and fed by revenge, as her mother. Eris was content to play at her own games in her own demesne, ruling alongside Sirius as was meant to be. A familiar scent caught in her nose, past the thick scent of coppery blood and death, and the hybrid hesitated but a moment before altering her course to seek out Pan.
He was big now, bigger than she thought possible. That he had been a small and weak thing pulled from her body was nearly incomprehensible to The Auxiliary, and she looked on him with a strange and fierce fondness in her burning eyes of chartreuse, dropping the rabbit. “Pan,” she said -- her voice was warmer and sweeter than it would be in speaking to anyone else. “Eat with me?” she asked, nudging the corpse of the rabbit forward with a downstretched muzzle.
The growing boy’s ebony muzzle traced the hard forest floor as he slowly moved along, drawing in countless scents of the world around him. Nostalgia clung to him and would for some time, but perhaps it wouldn’t feel this bad when a few more weeks got to pass. Perhaps he just had difficulties looking forward. As long as he was surrounded by the family he would be safe. He was not a particularly easily scared child, but he was quick to feel uncomfortable in situations he was not familiar with. Apart from the stories about their gods, he couldn’t point at specific things he feared.
A most welcoming sight of black caught his attention, and the moment the approaching canine had been confirmed to be his mother, his large form bounced towards her in genuine joy. He was proud of the position her mother held in the new pack. The fact that she was important made him feel important as well. Perhaps arrogance was building behind the coal fur on his chest. ”Mother!” he responded as her beautiful voice spoke the shortened version of his name. The male’s tail thrashed behind him, and picked up its speed as she offered him a meal. Pandemic would never turn down a meal.
Despite the sudden hunger that pierced his stomach at the thought of fresh meat, the boy made his way over to his mother to offer her a loving nudge. The young wolf’s tongue leaped out for a doggish kiss on his mother’s chin before gray eyes wandered to the corpse on the ground. His gaze quickly turned back to her, soundlessly pleading for green light to go for the cooling flesh.
He was her blood, he had come from her body. Peering down at the child, coat a perfect likeness of midnight shadows, she could hardly believe this fact. He looked like her -- his coat did, anyway, carrying the deep and shadowy hues of her own -- but he also looked like Larkspur. The D'Angelo man's ghost was reflected in that dark face, those milk-pale eyes. They seemed made of hard silver even as they filled with warmth at the sight of her. The word uttered from his lips was strange, a name she had never expected to hear called to her. Mother -- it was a name many women carried, of course, but only their children called them such. It was not truly a secret name; anyone might gaze upon her and her child and see their resemblance, their similarity. Yet only Pandemic, Salvia, and Wretch would call her mother -- and any other children she bore into this world.
He leaned for her and nudged and licked at her, still youthful in his affection. She loathed the day when he would become more distant and less willing to show his mother such affection, though she knew it would come -- new mother or not, the coal-hued hybrid knew the way of the world, and she knew that all children eventually grew up. When Pandemic was an adult, he would love her no less fiercely -- she would see to that -- but he might be less apt to show it. Her chartreuse eyes half-lidded with pleasure and she nuzzled at each side of his muzzle briefly, as was their custom, and then planted an extra lick to his cheek, breathing in his scent, still faintly puppy-sweet.
“Pandemic,” she purred, drawing his full name this time. “How is my dear boy?” she inquired, deigning to wait until her son had eaten his fill before picking from the carcass. She could hunt again, or she could demand someone else find her food -- it did not matter.
This young child would soon grow up to retrieve another perspective of the world and his dear ones, but that was not yet. Pandemic showed his affection openly to the few individuals that held it, without a thought that this all would change one day. He had been brought up by religious parents of different beliefs, but in a child’s eyes, it was the parents that were regarded as the true Gods. His mother nuzzled his still relatively round puppy face, and platinum eyes closed temporarily while his happy smile continued to stretch wider as she returned his love with her own. Her voice attracted his gaze once more. ”Hungry!” He yipped, wagging his tail intensively.
And not a moment was put to waste as he was the privileged one to dive into the fresh meat his mother had brought him. The child knew that it probably would and should not be like this much longer. But he did not have the knowledge all children gained once they grew up. Now was the best time of his life, but all he could think of was growing up. Though, actually, in Pan’s case, he was not much in a hurry for anything, really. He flowed with the tide, and did not require much to feel content with the life he led. He was lucky to have so much, and did not think of asking for more.
A pale sister was fading from the young memory, and whatever void Wretch had left in his heart was slowly being filled by Salvia, the one remaining sister that would never leave his side. But sometimes he feared that she too one day would vanish into nothing. But no bad thoughts could linger with a full stomach, and the black male eagerly feasted on the dead body, stopping only when his stomach started to slightly bulge.
He was her sweet boy, the child who looked most like his parents. Eris engaged in no favoritism when it came to the appearance of her children, but Pandemic most resembled her and Larkspur, she thought, with his coat the color of deep shadow. He would grow and look like Larkspur, she thought, all size and ferocity, but he would have her delicateness, too. It was apparent already in his movements, his features -- peering at him and watching him eat, the hybrid woman still could hardly believe that he was hers. It was as if he had arisen from the dirt itself, whole and perfect as he was, with no effort on her part. She could not remember the pain of childbirth so well while looking at Pan; with the memory but a faint whisper in her head, she quietly vowed that she would endure it a hundred thousand times to have children as strong and beautiful as Pan would be someday, as he was now.
As Pandemic began picking at the rabbit's flesh, the coal-hued woman herself bent to tear a few sparse strips of flesh from the carcass, though she did not eat much, instead preferring to allow Pandemic his fill of the choicest pieces. She would hunt again, slow and shameful process it was. Pandemic's stomach came before her own. His and Salvia's -- she might have still put Wretch before herself, too, but the sable-hued woman did not know where her pale daughter had gone. Glittering chartreuse eyes regarded the boy silently as she drew back, a faint frown apparent on her wolfish face.
“You miss your sister,” she ventured, knowing he would realize which sister she spoke of. Pandemic and Salvia were nigh inseperable; it was the pale sister she referenced, the ghost who had disappeared from their lives while they still dwelled in Anathema's caves.
Eyes without colour peered at the meat remaining flesh. A seed of guilt found his heart and started to grow, for it wouldn’t be enough for his earthen shaded sister. His tongue leaped out to clean the shy shine of maroon against his night black muzzle. Lovely; hot and sweet on his taste buds. He was growing older and it was about time he too was to start to catch his own meals. The thought of independence was tempting, but the road would be long. As many other young ones on his own age, he wanted to obtain skills immediately without going through the tiring process of learning. But he wanted to be able to bring his dominant sister gifts of affection, and since the way to Pan’s heart went through his stomach, he assumed his sister would be no different.
His mother’s words brought annoying thuds of sorrow to his chest, and though he tried to disguise the remaining emotional pain from the loss of a sister, his ears drew back and his tail retreated in-between his legs, betraying him. Why would she bring up a hurtful subject? Platinum gaze lifted to his dame’s dark form, though fell just as quickly. ”I like Salvia better,” he insisted, voice suddenly gloomy instead of joyful. If Wretch didn’t want to be a part of their family then he didn’t want her to be either. She had run away and never come back, and he didn’t want her back!
The sable-shaded woman looked down on her dearest boy, hoping he would grow as large and strong as his father. That was Larkspur's value, after all -- if he took after his coyote mother, and ended up a small and scrawny thing, it would not do. It wouldn't seem such a thing would happen to Pan, however -- he was already large for his age, and with the matching largeness of ears and paws that spoke of further size. There was gloominess on the boy's face, and the hybrid woman smiled faintly, leaning forward to nudge him in his dismay.
“You and Salvia will grow strong here, Pan. Wherever Wretch is, I don't feel the same will happen for her,” the woman said, her own sadness showing through now. It evaporated quickly, however, and the woman nuzzled the boy's neck, licking at his face briefly, cleaning him of some faint spatter of rabbit's blood he had missed. “If she chose to leave us, she chose her fate, like you've chosen yours,” the coyote said, confidently now. “You're mother's darling prince, and whatever it is you are meant to do, you will and you'll make me proud,” the hybrid added, sharing with him what she had seen before their birth. She was meant to carry shadow into this world, and her son, her dearest boy, was the perfect embodiment of that shadow -- his fur black as night and his eyes now the silver-bright of so many glittering stars.
Her words gave him all certainty he hadn’t known he required. Puppy lips slowly formed a smile; a smile stretching across pitch black and now merely an echo of scarlet death. This animal’s death would make him strong, and so it had not lived without a greater purpose after all. But why was his darling mother sad behind the words that served to soothe him? Wretch was quickly becoming a memory and little more, and her disappearance did not pain him as it pained her. But with Pandemic and Salvia in her life, mother dearest should never have to be sad. Silver hues were lit by the young soul peering out from within, unable to share in his mother’s grief now.
Ears flicked as Eris’ snout gently nuzzled the sensitive area in his neck. His chest expanded with ear like a black furred balloon, pride mixing in with the life giving oxygen. Mother’s darling prince in shiny black armour and white teeth and puppy smile! He wriggled, bringing his body a few steps forward until his face buried in his Goddess’ silky pelt. ”Don’t need her,” he tried to soothe, for he would give her everything she could ever desire once he grew up and became big and strong like his father. Perhaps he could stomp on Wretch’s face then as well, just to teach her a lesson and punish her for crippling mommy’s beautiful smile.
Pandemic belonged to her, albeit in a very different sense than Molcaxitl. He was not a slave to be commanded about; Eris could no more control him than she could truly control Sirius. And still, even so, in the same way that even Sirius belonged to her, so did Pandemic -- they were hers, part of her pack and part of her family. The hybrid marveled at this idea still, even faced with the silver-eyed youth. He was not so young anymore. He would grow, faster and faster, and one day he would stand before her, an adult -- strong and certain and built as Larkspur was. The sable coyote knew this in her heart, and yet she would cherish his childhood no more than his adulthood, brief as it was. The Auxiliary longed to see her son fulfill his magnificent potential, not in this child's body. He would be a strong adult, she knew, and though he would only be a boy so long, she already wished to see him grown.
She smiled at his words, although it was a faint smile, and she wrapped her head about him, tucking her face into his shoulder and holding him close to her. Perhaps he would outgrow and outweigh her soon. “We have all we need here, darling boy,” she purred, squeezing against him as she said this. “You'll grow up so strong here in Salsola,” the hybrid woman promised, vowing this to herself as well. “And you will have more siblings, and they will grow strong, too -- your father and I will have them,” the coyote said, determination filtering into her voice. Though it was not yet a certainty, the coyote knew in her bones it would be so sooner rather than later -- they would be blessed once again; fate did not produce such perfect darlings only to deny their parents further perfection.
Reassuring words brought a loving growl to her darling boy’s chest. Even if there existed an open sky above their heads, they had everything they needed here. It was smaller and his mother was the queen here and the boy immensely liked the thought of being of royal blood. He leaned against her warmth, enjoying the sensation of having satisfied all needs that were. Ears flickered with the revelation of several siblings, but Pandemic did not know jealousy in this department yet. He had received the attention he had demanded up until now, and whenever he was in doubt, a parent’s well-chosen words had always been there to fix any emotional injury.
He imagined watching them, though it was hard for him to imagine puppies younger than himself, for he had never seen one. He and his siblings had always been the youngest in Anathema, and there were no other children in Salsola. He preferred it that way, but having a selection of new puppies to play with wasn’t bad. He liked his immediate family, and by the time they arrived he would be big and strong and protect them from all evil. None would be able to walk away from his watch. The ebony child’s snout bobbed up and down in silent agreement to Eris’ words.
”How big will they be?” the gray eyed child wondered, unable to imagine himself as a small child any longer. How big would a little brother or sister be like compared to him now?
The boy accepted it easily enough, which very nearly surprised the shaded woman. Her chartreuse eyes regarded her son with a faint air of pleasure at this maturity. At his age, she might have entitled him to feeling some distress over having younger siblings, but there was not an ounce of it in the boy. Instead, he only wondered at their size, and the coal-hued woman smiled, gesturing with her hands.
“So tiny at first -- you don't remember, but when you were born, you were that big and blind to the world,” the hybrid woman said, now tilting her own head backward, her eyes slits of reminiscence. “I don't remember it, either, but I was that blind small once, too,” she said. The sable hybrid wanted arms to put around him, and she willed it so, melting steadily from one form to the next until the transformation was complete. It was oddly fluid for The Auxiliary, who rarely found her shifts to be so smooth, and as the last of her Optime form appeared, the tumble and tangle of her unkempt mane erupted from the back of her skull and shoulders.
“They will grow as fast as you are, though,” the hybrid said, still smiling as she reached for his face, brushing the tiny and lingering bits of his meal from his cheeks. Pandemic and his sister would be adults faster than the sable-hued woman could believe.
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