Oh How The Creeks, They Cried

When the defeated raiding party had finally limped home, there had been met with a terrible surprise when they entered pack lands; Bacette had finally passed away. The poor boy had taken ill when he was young and, despite all of the healers’ best efforts, he just never got better. There had been much to do once they returned, wounds that needed tending, refugees of Norad to find housing for and make certain were fed so, Bacette’s funeral had been put off.

While various other things were seen to, the boy’s body had been preserved, for the time, in the cold waters of the nearby creek, down past where the pack would drink and hunt so that the water they used would not be contaminated. But today, he would finally be laid to rest. With some help, Lucette had carefully tended to his body, combing through his fur and rubbing scented oils into his coat to drive away any scent of death that may have lingered.

Haydée had personally dug Bacette’s grave, taking the better part of three days to make it the correct depth and width to comfortably accommodate him and he would lay at peace beside the grandfather he had never had the chance to meet in this life. Now, as the sun lifts toward midday, the Leader traces the pathway to an open area beside the falls. With a heaviness in her paws, the young woman approaches Bacette’s lovingly prepared body, his thin form now resting on a special stretcher that would be carried by four individuals.

Coming to a stop by his still body, the small leader takes a moment to her goodbye’s unseen by others. She leans down and presses her face into his shoulder, softly shuddering at the cold touch his vacant body now offers. Tears build in her emerald eyes as she softly says, “I am so sorry baby. Be at peace now.” Head shifts as she lifts it from his shoulder, moving to his cheek where she plants a soft kiss as she whispers, “Say hello to your grandfather for me.”

The tears slip free then, sliding down her cheeks to land in his dark fur and she quickly moves to gently brush them away. Steeling herself, Haydée lifts her head, singing a call for the pack to come and say their final goodbyes and to offer their support to the grieving family.

This is a sad day for Ethne.



"Haydée Kedieo"