when the world is falling apart

She had meticulously patterned out small dabs of each color, testing how much water for each effective stroke of the brush. How the paper reacted to each pigment. It had taken her hours as she delved into her experiments and she was just about to wrap up for a rest and wash her paint brush when... Her master stumbled into the den and fell into a heap. His face bloodied, a slash ripped over his beautiful black and brilliant blue face. She froze, waiting for him to command her.

If he was here bleeding... Then the wound wasn't something he wanted the boys to attend to and ask innocent questions over. Quietly she set her brush down and slowly approached his head.

"Who was it?" She asked quietly into the silence, brushing a claw gingerly to move a weft of fur away from the wound. Did he find Kyanite sneaking into the Col? ...Did he and Hazel have a fight?

"Speech"