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Oversized paws pattered softly on the stone floor as the pup sulked through the cavern. The boy, who was once a lively spirit flitting through the veins of Anathema, was now little more than a shadow. Everything turned on him so quickly in his young life and the once vibrant puppy now pouted the days away. Sticking to the caves, usually he did not even know if it was day or night. If he could have his way it would always be night. Dark, comforting twilight, with its cool, soothing sky and protective shadows.
It was unfortunate his pack was insistent on emulating daylight. It felt like each day more and more torches or lanterns were being placed about, more fires were built to warm them and cook. Why did they have to cook? Why did they have to have this artificial warmth? And if they would just put the torches out for a minute their eyes would adjust. His always did.
But Scorpius... he just wanted a home free of fire; a dream that was far too much to ever hope for. So instead the boy lurked about in the hallways, avoiding any room with flame like the black plague, which is why it was peculiar for him to wander to this particular place. Yet wander, he did.
He would never go near the hellish kitchen room again, not for a million meaty ribs, so he did not come through from that direction, but the occasional fire in the common room was low today, so he hugged the walls as he slipped through into the storeroom. That was when the shadow caught his eye and, curiously, he wandered to the threshold of Anathema's modest library. When he got there, though, he stopped, his paws freezing in place and he stared in, wide-eyed, wary of the light coming from the room. The flickering light played off his freshly scarred face and made it look as though his ruined flesh was dancing. After a moment of staring, the slightest animation returned to the boy and he turned his gaze towards the dark figure in the room. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but stopped. He wanted to talk to her but he had nothing to say. So instead, he resorted to the good old puppy fallback; lowered his head and let out a mournful whine.
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