on the pill

"Yes?" She croaked, emerging from the den's interior. Lucretia coughed and cleared her throat. The relocation had taken its toll on her, but Bourbon was keeping her grounded. She had just barely clawed her way back to the precipice of "normal," but she would throw it all away again to help the pack. Deathbelle included. Archon's death had been a detached blow - Luce had never formed a tight relationship with him, but had respected the strength he lent to Deathbelle and he was the father of her nieces and nephews. His loss was felt heavily by the immediate family and she longed to carry some of that burden for her sister, but knew it was hers to bear.

She slunk out of the den and shook her fur out, trying to puff out her coat. Putting weight back on, especially in the dead of winter, was slow going. Luce didn't want to add herself to Deathbelle's list of worries; she circled her sister and sat down next to her, shoulder to shoulder. The Shamyn sighed into Belle's neck and nuzzled her head close. "How may I be of service?"