life is cruel

Northern Boreas was bitter cold. Usagi's thin, short coat did little to buffer him against the frequent chill winds, and the lack of trees to block the chill in this region were unhelpful. He wasn't keen on coming up to this festival, pried away from his pack with wolves he could speak comfortably to and not wonder if his common tongue sounded strange to others, or just interacting with strange wolves in general. Though not shy, he'd been suspicious since they arrived, pressing himself against Kunai almost the entire time he'd been here. He'd been counting down the days until they left back to Auster, where the weather was relatively mild and he wasn't at risk of freezing to death like in this damn place. Still, he'd enjoyed being with Kunai - both as a source of warmth at night, and as a symbol of familiarity when he felt out of place. Same with Kuroo, who'd arrived with Sayuri. He couldn't help but wonder if the two of them were also interested, beyond the scope of friendship. It made him wonder, judging by how close they were, but it was clear they remained simply good friends. So he shrugged off the feeling, as well as his suspicions that something wasn't quite right up here.

The morning proved his instincts right.

Something in his gut stirred him awake, an uneasy feeling that there was something very very wrong concerning Kuroo. Slipping quietly from his partner's sleeping form, the Hohei grabbed his sword from his Akita who'd been laying nearby, slinging the sheath over his shoulder as he frantically loped in the direction on his brother's scent. His loping spurred into a bunny sprint when the acrid stench of blood - though not his brother's - singed his nostrils. Gods, what the hell happened?! He screamed mentally, brow furrowed and breaths quickening as he saw the sick, metallic splotches of blood on the frosted earth. Finally seeing his piebald brother, curled on the ground, he sprinted towards him, at first wondering if he was injured. "Kuroo!" He called out, concern sharp in his tone. He approached him carefully, body tense as his mossy gaze widened at the scene. No body, but the blood was thick, like something..or someone, had been dragged. There was too much blood for anyone to have survived, and a sinking feeing reached his chest and into his stomach. Dread. Pure dread. The blood has a wafting lingering scent of a Tojo wolf, and he could only surmise who it could've been. His shoulders slumped, he avoided the blood splatters and sat gently next to Kuroo, aiming to place a comforting foreleg around his brother's shoulders.

"I am so sorry, Kuroo.." He murmured. He knew he didn't need to mention her name. They knew, both knew she couldn't have survived. But the implications would be extremely saddening. Tojo-kai had lost a talented she-wolf, and a good friend of his brother's. He fell silent, not one for words but hoping his presence would bring Kuroo some comfort.

Speech