the sable smoke where vanishes the flame
#1
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She had been chasing the buck for what felt like miles. It had been longer then that, but her body did not tire and the white flag seemed just out of reach. This was maddening and drove her further on, white paws pounding against the earth and splashing her coat with mud. On and on the woman ran, ignorant of the borders she neared, ignorant of how far she had traveled from the wide forest around what she now called home. Her blood had turned into a wild thing and consumed her whole, filling her eyes with hell-fire and keeping her mouth wide and open, eager to swallow the beast whole.

This went on for what felt like forever until a bird, bright and noisy, came at her face. Aurèle balked and stumbled, her surprise apparent as an uncharacteristic yowl broke from her throat. She came to an abrupt halt and sought the source of her broken chase but it was gone. Frustrated, she growled deep in her chest. Her lungs burnt and her muscles ached. She turned to leave.

It was then that the scent hit her. An old thing, buried under rain and mud, but stronger then both. Decay. This drew her like a moth to flame, though when she found the source she wished she had not. There, throat torn out and chest ripped open, was the rotting body of a wolf. Not just any wolf, but her niece, whose scent even now was that of family. The world became silent and terrible in that moment.

Aurèle did not show her fury, but it rocked the earth. It took her only a short time to dig a grave and bury the remains, all of this watched by the silent crow. Thus finished, she once more made to leave—and saw the bird move, saw him land on a muddied thing nearby. She approached and recognized the silly toy that the girl had carried around as a child. Sorrow dredged up in her stomach and she reeled, finding the act so unreal, despite the mud on her body and the scent of death clinging to her. It did not take long for her to gain the two-legged form, which she used to carry the old thing to a nearby lake. There she washed it clean, washed the mud from her hands, and she hurt.

The woman and the crow began to make their way back to AniWaya, though each mile brought dread into her step.


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