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Her red-rimmed eyes were turned upward, gazing at the statue that marked the boundary of Dahlia de Mai. It was early morning, the rising sun reflecting off the face of the Virgin that had so captivated herself and another that she knew. It was he that had brought her here, though he was unaware of this fact. Likely he was very blissfully unaware, sleeping -- or not, she thought wryly -- with his arms around his love. It was funny. The more she said it to herself, the more it hurt, having the man she'd just come to realize she adored choosing another. She'd thought perhaps things would get better in time, and perhaps they would, but now it just plain hurt.
She'd woken much earlier, taken down the bearskin and folded it carefully, and then placed it so she could wriggle underneath while in her four-legged form. It was soft and smelled of smoke. Originally she'd planned to leave it at the cabin so Slay would have a soft place to sleep when and if he visited. Now it seemed he would get more use out of it here in the pack, and so she'd elected to bring it to him. And to tell him exactly how she felt. No sense in putting it off now that he was in the relationship; he should know what she was feeling.
So she'd shifted into her four-legged form, leaving her packs and all other pretense of business at home, only Tobias following out of worry. She'd gathered the skin carefully onto her back and trudged to the cemetery, but there she'd stopped, realizing she didn't know where she was going. Little did she know he was not far from her melancholy thoughts. She tipped her head back and let go a mournful howl, really aimed at no one, and then whispered to herself. "Why?"