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409 words
Cour des Miracles was in turmoil after the shift in leadership, and Skoll wanted to throw his head back and laugh at the pack for being so goddamn blind. He could see plainly now that a shift was needed, a shift that brought the pack to a more defensive position. Attacks were happening and no one was lifting a claw, no one was patrolling over the whole span of the shoreline and inner forest until their paw pads were raw and bleeding, no one was tearing out the throat and heart and guts of the man responsible for this.
The blond wolfdog limped heavily as he ran to the building, leaving red paw prints and dots of saliva behind him. For the first time that he could remember, he was exhausted, and even then he would press himself. Once his brown-furred brother had return, he had known something had changed that would never be changed, and he’d thrown himself headlong into his patrols and training until he thought he might collapse. Doing something might fix this whole mess, and he would climb up the porch steps and throw open the door with a shove of his nose and all his work would have fixed it, somehow, if God really was watching and God was pleased with his sacrifice.
A cloying stench tickled his nostrils, and his heart stuttered if he wondered he was too late this time, just like he’d thought he was too late each time he set foot inside to visit her. She was so fragile, she was an old woman, and the fact that she was his mother and she was supposed to live forever didn’t mean anything. He shoved through the doorway and made his way to the room, smelling others there, too, and trembled as he set his raw paws on the floor, almost dragging his tired lupus body inside.
“Mama,” Skoll murmured, and he somehow found or made space between Liam and Terra and squeezed himself there, the feel of their fur and the lull of their scent keeping him from falling down. Green eyes roamed sharply over her face, and he shivered as he knew what was coming, what was inevitable. “Mama, je suis ici,” he blubbered, and collapsed anyway, sprawled on his belly with his nose pressed into her fur until he thought he might smother himself and he wanted to, too.
“Je suis ici. Restez ici. Dieu, s'il vous plaît.”
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