Every Little Thing She Does

Rhythm couldn’t help but dwell on her sorrows, she could only hope that when she reached Abaven they would be lessened. Misery loved company, and she knew her family there was feeling the loss as keenly or more than she was. The blind woman didn’t keep regular hours, especially now after the news that Shaye was gone reached her. Sleep was fleeting and hard to grasp. Thus far she had avoided the tempting pull of alcohol, though she felt the desire now not to drown her physical pain but the emotional. The old Destruction woman knew it was no remedy but the desire was still strong.

Instead the old woman made her way on a walk, the basin was nice for her old paws. The soft ground was easy on her arthritis and the gentle breeze was nice on her face. The evening was pleasant compared to many before this and the warmth was nice to relax into. The cold was awful on her old bones and she wondered if she would make it through the next winter. Thoughts of death swirled in her mind regularly and even Tyrian’s bright personality had difficulties boosting her up. She held onto the hope Abaven would hold her answers and healing.

Thoughts of Shaye and the afterlife filled her mind as she walked through the sweet grass. Sh might not have noticed the stranger were it not for her words on the air. Rhythm swiveled her chocolate ears, which were now flecked in silver with her advanced age, to catch the inebriated words. She could smell the strong alcohol and her discipline slipped away ass her salt and pepper legs brought her close to the unknown wolf. ”Your brew smells lovely.” The old woman spoke softly, her creamy eyes settling near where Iolaire’s form lay on the grass.