Alone

Basilisk returned to the den to find it empty. The scent of Ignita as old as when he had left her. She hadn’t returned. Had she taken the opportunity of his absence to sneak away, safe from his grasp for the night? His heart felt to empty and hollow for the grief of that to do anything but chip away at him a little more.

He lay down on the stone cold floor, and curled up as tightly as the giant wolf could. Resting his head against his rump and closing his eyes. He didn’t know if he would manage sleep. But he would try. Alone, in the empty den… perhaps a sign of what every night to come would now be.

"Speech"