The Living Should Live

Emile still wasn't eating properly, that much was visible on his frame, the way his pelt hung from him, shabby and uncared for. He moved mostly at night still, though what was night and what wasn't was all but indiscernible now... Still he wasn't not eating and tonight the hunger pangs were strong enough that for now he would give in to his basic need. It was that that drew him through the halls, he pushed his way into the dinning hall, dull forest green gaze passing over the hearth where he did not see the ghost that stood there, the golden liquid that marked the stone missed by him. His paws were heavy, along with his heart. Emile felt even more lost than he ever had. His pack and family were sick, dying around him and Emile felt useless, unable to do anything to help them. He paused as he nearly passed by a pillar that had grown it's own glowing stone outcropping, fireflies billowing around it and Emile wondered, not for the first time, how they were related to the sickness around him, for that that were connected was certain but he was still unable to cure anything. Useless.



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