nowhere to go

It was very likely her crying would attract attention - and most likely the wrong kind. In fact, it was nothing short of a miracle the yearling hadn’t become one of those sorry remainders of blood smeared on the frosted ground nearby with her wailing. But she was hurt, her chest was tearing itself apart. And it led to her having little regard for her own life. Why did it matter anyways? The world was a cruel place, and for some reason she seemed fated to have the same, gut-wrenching scenario happen over and over again. Everybody she loved, trusted, poured her heart and soul into had left. Died or disappeared or whatever. And part of her wondered what was the point in continuing this incredibly painful cycle when she’d find herself alone time and time again. There was only so much her heart could take. Her wounds were being continuously torn open, stitched together, then ripped at the seams - with no chance to let it heal. What a sorrowful life. Nothing but utter pain.

So when that feminine voice emerged from her tear-filled stupor, Zoey was tempted to continue crying. To let this voice - be it a possible friend or even the perpetrator behind Miss Wren’s death - silence it for her. But she didn’t. As if from some spurred instinct - was it a deep, inner desire to keep going, even after all the trauma that clawed at her soul? - Zoey ceased her sobbing. Forcing herself to take in a shuddering deep breath, she shakily rose from her position, to sit up and face the source of the sharp voice. It was firm, but not unkind. A smaller woman, cloaked in mottled monochrome, with a pair of ram horns upon her skull and piercing blue-green eyes. Though she didn’t know the figure, and she didn’t have Menagerie scent on her so clearly she was not of the dissolved pack, she took the risk to turn her head to grab her goggles, slipping them on over her swollen eyes to get a clearer view. She didn’t dare speak as the strange woman continued, mentioning Wren’s name and that it did Zoey no good to sit and wallow. Through her puffy gaze, she narrowed them slightly. How did this stranger know Wren? Had she met her before? And who was this stranger to tell her not to grieve when all she had loved and trusted had been ripped away from her in the most tragic and violent of ways? Not just once, but over and over again. The mental pain was excruciating, a static darkness she thought she’d shaken off after Abaven’s dissolvement having come back in full force, consuming her thoughts in his clawed embrace. Dark and heavy and mourning.

Still sniffling, her shoulders twitching as her breaths hitched in her chest, she took a moment to compose herself as she looked at this she-wolf that had come across her. She didn’t know what to think of her. To trust her. Her ability to trust in others was dwindling with each loss she suffered. ”I’ve lost everyone I’ve gotten even remotely close to. I’ve lost two packs, my parents, Miss Wren..” She swallowed thickly, pushing back the wave of tears that no doubt would soak her russet cheeks again. She glanced at her, eyes filled with nothing but the agony of a girl who was completely lost, with nowhere to turn and nobody to lean on. ”I’m not sure how much more I can take.”

Speech