The Bearer Of Bad News

Ely stands there unmoving as she studies her brother’s demeanor. The way he does t speak right again, the way his ears fold back and his eyes drop to avoid meeting hers. And she knows something is wrong. The saxe rarely acted like this. Something had happened. Something he didn’t want to say. She could tell. And it felt as if time had begun to stand still. Her breath caught in her throat as the tension began to build around them.

Spit it out. her inner voice spat at him.

An accident. What kind of accident? He wasn’t making sense. And he was beating around the bush. Why did he smell like scald?

SPIT IT OUT it rattled in her head, this time louder, angrier.

Had something happened to scald? What wasn’t he saying. He’d saved many lives, so where was he. Where was her scald?

His next sentence hit her like a wave of ice. It took all her breath away and she sank to the floor. A foreign feeling washed over her as she screamed. A heart broken scream. A sound she didn’t even know she could make. Her heart shattered, her mind raced as her work came tumbling apart. Every little piece she’d begun to pick up came down in her mind around her.

Salty tears stained her fur, running down her face as she sobbed.

Scald. Accident. Sorry.

Scald. Accident. Sorry.

Scald. Accident. Sorry.

Those three words kept repeating in her head.



"Ely & Ezekiel"