She'd had this lingering nausea ever since her father had told her about her mother's passing. Finch had ran to her body, already cold, her nose crusted with frost, and thrown herself down in the snow next to it. She'd sobbed until she was hoarse. Logically, she knew this had been a few weeks ago, but it still felt like she was lying there next to her mother's body. Mommy's body. They had buried her as soon as the ground had softened enough to make a decent grave. She hadn't been able to visit it yet. It felt like doing so would be admitting that she wasn't waiting in the warmth of their family den; that familiar, constant presence she'd taken for granted. Although spring had now come to Boreas and she should be vibrant and happy, working diligently in her garden, she was still lost somewhere within herself. It was as if everything she had once enjoyed was covered in a thin layer of muslin - she could make out the shape of the things she loved, she knew they were close by... but it was obscured. Distant. Separated by something very real, yet intangible. She struggled to put a name to the feeling. All she knew was that it hurt, and she didn't want to tend to her garden. She didn't want to do a single thing that she knew would bring her joy. Finch couldn't bring herself to visit the gravesite, but now that the snow had melted, she returned to the place where she'd last seen her mother. It had been under this tree, right here. Hadn't it? Suddenly, her breathing hitched. Finch struggled to exhale and she felt her throat grow smaller and smaller. It had been here! Right here! She spun in circles, her eyes darting wildly between the slim trunks of the trees in the orchard. Spring brought so many changes to the land, new grass and small buds and the bright scents of new life... it was so different from the snow-covered landscape she'd last seen her mother in. Her chest rose and fell, faster and faster, her breathing spinning out of control until she grew light headed. She needed to know the precise location she'd last seen her.

Jay had spent her entire life knowing that her parents were far older than most wolves, and logistically wouldn't be around for most of their lives - so why did losing her mother hurt so badly? Realistically, it was surprising they'd both lived through their childhood and beyond, though due to their relatively sheltered upbringings Jay didn't really feel all that much like an adult. She was, sure, but life in Avalon was just so simple and easy that she hadn't really needed to do a lot of growing up.

Losing her mother felt like ripping off a bandage though, one she hadn't been quite ready for yet.

Visiting her grave felt hard too. Both of her parents had slowed down these last few seasons, and part of her brain seemed to want to keep existing like mom was still around. Just resting, just being reclusive, not actually gone. Maybe that was why she'd even been avoiding her dad, which Jay knew wasn't right but she didn't know how else to be.

Everything just seemed so hard, so gloomy, like her life had these dark grey storm clouds lingering overhead that seemed impossible to shake. She didn't even know how her siblings were faring - at least those that remained. Talking to them was hard. Thinking about how so many of them weren't here any didn't even know what had happened to mom made it all even harder, too. Almost made her feel angry, if she was capable of such an emotion.

Her paws had been moving idly, taking her across The Orchard, her movements aimless and without purpose. Coming across Finch's scent made her slow down, though she moved even more swiftly when she realized her sister was in distress. It was obvious even from a distance, and more apparent as she got closer.

"Finnie - are you okay?"

Finch heard Jay speak, but it was as if it was coming from underwater and many miles away. She turned to her sister, jaw slack and eyes dull. "I just... I wanted to see where..." she gestured lamely to the orchard surrounding them in full bloom. In any other circumstance, she'd be happy to see the landscape thriving in the blush of late spring rolling on into stately summer. But now it was just one more reminder that a season had passed, and Twig wasn't here to see it. "I don't know how to be... without her," she said softly, her heart still hammering hard in her chest. It was a struggle to get her breathing under control. Finch saw the edges of her vision grow a bit darker and she grew light-headed. Stumbling slightly, she planted herself into a sudden sitting position and shook her head madly to try and bring herself back to reality. All it did was make the tears biting at the corners of her eyes begin to fall in earnest. Finally, like the child she felt like, Finch mewled: "It's not fair!" and let the tears come as they may.

Crying didn't come that easily to Jay. It wasn't because she wasn't sensitive, nor empathetic- she just was too much of an optimist to usually shed tears. Most of the time, it was hard to stay upset for long, given how good life was here, in Avalon and with her family. Life was simply good- or at least it had been. And it would be again, she was sure of it. For the first time since their mom died though she felt her eyes burn with tears, mirroring Finch's own.

"I know," she said after a pause. The pain was hard to put into words, even if she knew the day would eventually come, and sooner rather than later. That knowledge didn't do much to prepare her for how it'd actually feel without their mom. Nothing could've prepared any of them. She wouldn't try to convince her sister to feel any other way than how she did. Telling her that everything would be okay, or any other positive notions she could drum up, seemed pointless right now when she felt like this too

Jay wasn't sure how they'd go on, either. Not when it felt like this.

Moving slowly toward her sister, she found that the tears she'd been holding back began to fall. Slowly at first, and then all at once, once the dam broke. Before long she realized she was sobbing, moving to tuck her head under Finch's neck, even though Jay was the taller of the two. "It's not fair," she agreed quietly, between a few strangled sobs. "None of it is."

It wasn't until Jay broke down too that Finch's cries finally stifled. Jay, who was always so sunny. Jay, who always found something positive in every situation. Finch gulped down her sobs, although her body still shook quietly with them. Everything had seemed so simple for so long, and now she didn't know which way was up or which way was down. Had two years really passed in this blissful cocoon? Finch hardly felt like an adult, certainly not one capable of making sense of a loss like this. She made small, soothing noises between her own hiccupping sobs as Jay forced her way beneath her chin. Finch awkwardly stood and tried to accommodate her larger sister, nuzzling into her shoulder and letting Jay feel vulnerable. They both needed it, that much was obvious. "I feel like..." she said quietly into her sister's fur, "I feel like I don't know anything at all." It wasn't true. She knew plenty of things. Finch knew every herb to treat a stomachache. She knew when you had to a pull a tooth and when it was safe to fix with a hot compress. It still felt like she didn't know anything that really mattered. "Maybe I need to leave," Finch said, her voice small and sad. "Go somewhere... learn something... do something, I don't know," she babbled without really meaning it. Leave Avalon? It was inconceivable, especially with the weight of Jay's tears. "I don't know," she repeated again, blinking the last of her tears away. "I don't know anything." She wasn't making sense, even to herself, but it felt good to say these wild things out loud. Who else could she talk to, if not Jay?