Even with the company of the others who lived in Conor's house, nights were the most difficult for Weilund Oriel. It was true that he spent them alone in a room of his own, but despite whatever comfort someone's presence might give him, Weilund was blessedly no one was there to witness his devastation. He didn't want anyone seeing him like this: trembling and lost, a ghost of the wolf he used to be. But no matter how much he wished it, no matter how hard he worked to make things better for himself emotionally, Eilu wasn't making any progress. The day brought a small amount of relief for him, he spent as much time as he could in the sun and avoided shadows as much as possible. A little superstitious maybe, but felt as if it helped a little. There was also the time he spent at the tree house – a large portion of his days. He had thrown himself into the restoration of Eli and Kol's old home, determined to erase the lonely feeling it seemed to emanate. He wasn't sure whether or not Bris intended on returning to live there, but with a young pup to care for, Eilu doubted it. Tree houses weren't exactly conducive to raising young ones and so it appeared as if the place was all his, should he want it. He knew that he most certainly did wish to live in the place his big brother built but when that might be, Weilund wasn't exactly sure. Fixing it up was one thing, but spending nights alone in a place immersed in the memories of his brother and sister in law – it was a frightening thought. He could barely make it through the night in a house full of others. The yearling was cautiously optimistic though. He knew that with time things would get better, it was just all about perspective. And getting over the nightmares.
Sometimes he dreamed about his brother's death- the gruesome injuries and pulsing blood, a violent scene punctuated by his beloved sibling's cries of pain. These images would always end with the male crying out himself, wrenched from slumber and plunged into the darkness around him, his chest heaving with both the fear and emotional taxation the nightmares left him with. He would spend the rest of the night awake with his eyes wide open and staring into space, afraid to close lest he see everything again. Those were difficult nights. But even the dreams that had nothing to do with Elliot's death at all were difficult to bear. It was odd in a way, but Weilund found that dreaming of past times spent with Eli was almost as awful as dreaming about his demise. It was a different pain that would wrack at his heart when he awoke – a desperate longing and sadness that tore at him and left him gasping, no less painful than the other images that flitted behind his closed lids. There was no escape. He supposed that at some point things would get easier, that he'd eventually be able to look back on his memories and be glad for the time he had gotten with his hero. But for now they were all just a reminder of what happened, the prelude to the horrific end. But until then he would immerse himself in his work, pushing himself further every day in an attempt to leave himself exhausted enough that he would collapse at the end of the day, too tired to dream. It didn't happen often, but when it did Eilu thanked God. Oblivion was like Heaven to him.
Unfortunately, oblivion was not his companion this evening. For the third time this week, Weilund woke with a strangled cry, calling out to someone he knew wasn't there. He lay in the dark, his head tucked into his chest, massive paws drawn inwards in an attempt to keep himself together, protected. Weilund's sides heaved and he fought desperately to keep the whimpers from escaping his maw, but couldn't succeed. He tried instead to at least keep them quiet, he didn't want to wake anyone up. But it was so hard to keep the images out of his head. They weren't the violent memories of Elliot's passing, but his latest dream was still just as haunting. It started out with the both of them walking through a forest, side by side. The trees loomed high above them, creating a canopy of leaves that filtered the sun into beams that danced across their pelts. Both he and Elliot would bump into each other every once in a while and each contact would initiate a burst of laughter and companionable conversation. It also instilled a great feeling of comfort in Weilund, something he'd always felt in his big brother's company. It was no secret that Weilund Oriel worshiped his brother. And even better, Elliot loved his younger sibling just as much. They would spend most of their time together, off on whatever adventure Eli would come up with at the time. Always eager to please his brother, Eilu would follow along, no matter the itinerary.
The dream had proceeded like this, just the two of them in the sleepy green-hued sunlight. But before long, it got dark and suddenly Weilund couldn't see. When his eyes finally adjusted to the dim light, it was with a cry of dismay that the yearling discovered Elliot was nowhere in sight. He cried out for his brother, ears straining to hear a reply. Anything. But nothing would come. He'd spend the rest of the dream racing through the darkness, tripping and stumbling over rocks and twisted roots, falling more than once. But no matter how hard and fast he ran, it was all for nothing. Elliot could not be found. In his dream it felt like he'd been wandering for hours, searching hopelessly for any sign of his brother but to no avail. And then he woke up, just as lost and scared and completely alone.