A Ballad of Sacrifice

The sound of steps, familiar and welcome draws her attention from her light slumber. Her skull rises, and then Absinth’s sharp emerald eyes flicker from her suckling babes to the sight of Aresenn at the den entrance. Her eyes are warm, until the fragile bundle in his jaws snatches her attention in an instant. A bundle that contained life, that smelled of fresh afterbirth and blood. The scents of Aurelia, Caedes, and Sephiran heavy in the air, invading their den with what she could only assume was a grim reality.

Her mind raced, grappling with the situation. Aresenn standing there, consumed by uncertainty and hesitation. She knew. Of course she knew. No scent that bloody would mean anything but tragedy.

Absinth could feel the burden of his gaze, the unspoken words, the desperate plea for guidance. She remembered the harsh, unforgiving wilderness they lived in — a place where the weak were left behind. Yet here was Aresenn, standing before her with a bundle of vulnerable newborn lives.

She heard soft, weak whimpers coming from the blanket.

Her instincts roared to life, a fierce protective urge that was almost primal as it gripped her senses. Her fur bristled, a combination of indignation and resolve. She could sense the uncertainty in Aresenn, the weight in his amber eyes that mirrored the raw dread she had felt so many times before while trying to survive as a child in squalor. A rat of the streets, claimed by no parentage, chased by demons and never knowing warmth.

“What are you waiting for, Aresenn?” She snapped, her voice a whip crack in the still air. ”Bring them here, quickly!” Her movements were swift and fluid. Slowly, carefully disentangling herself from her own plump, well-fed pups.

wormwood