The last weeks had been hard for the aging matriarch. Her daughter had returned, thankfully. Cared for her patiently and lovingly. Lirika knew, though, that it was time. The pallid female had seen her fair share, and her old bones were too frail to hold her anymore. For a few days, she'd simply been curled up beneath the sheep hides beside the fire. Divo had carefully administered herbs, and brought her food and water to drink. She'd made her peace with her children, to a degree. Dominika held some resentment in her heart, for the gods' rejection of her desire to become a shaman like her sister. Darya had never fit in well with her father's lifestyle, or the roaming band that the family had formed for a short while. She suited the north, and the cold welcomed her. Divo was endlessly loving, and a smart young girl. She would be fine in this world. The pale femme dreamed of her parents, for the first time in a long time. Aurora and Magnus hadn't been the best of parents. Regardless, a few happy memories remained. Stumbling into the damp heat of the mangrove, under the mantle of Ludicael, when it had once stood. Her mother's soft smile, and her father's rich laughter. Her brother already tumbling headlong into an adventure in the surrounding foliage. Those had been her happiest moments, when her family was whole. Before postpartum depression stole her mother away. Then the sea had claimed her. Magnus had disappeared. Sweltering heat gave way to memories of blinding snowfall, and she was in the motherland. Hunting pale hares to hone her tracking skills. She'd never been as good as her mother. The male at her side on this hunt was faceless, unfamiliar. It had been long enough that she couldn't remember all of the wolves who had welcomed her. She remembered learning Russian, something she could pass on to her children. Something she did pass on to her children. The fire had died down to cinders, still warm enough to register against her skin. The sun wouldn't rise for another few hours, but this was the witch's hour. Curled around the larger form of her pale daughter, back to the embers, the phantom felt at peace. Cheek to cheek with her brave little star, shoulders brushing in the embrace of slumber. Sleep had come easily to her with the herbs that Divo had administered, and for once she wasn't in pain. She'd told a story to her daughter as they were drifting off, of time she'd spent in the motherland with her kin. Her hind limbs were turned out, tangled loosely with Divo's in affectionate embrace. The larger female's champagne tail was draped over their paws. A deep breath sighed through her nostrils, stirring the rosy fur of her daughter's foreleg. Just like that, it was over. .:EXIT LIRIKA VIA DEATH:. "speech"

She awoke with the dawn, and the chill brought on by the frozen coals and a brisk winter wind coursing into the cavern. A soft groan tumbled from her lips. Slowly, she rolled to her paws and shook the sleep from her muscles. Her mother didn't stir, but she had taken a rather heavy dose of herbs the night before. The mornings had been very hard on Lirika lately, and the young shaman was doing her best to make things easier on her mother's joints. Thus, she kept quiet. Padded softly to the low pile of kindling she kept within the cave, and grabbed a long stick. Perhaps with some prodding, a few warm coals could be found to restart the blaze. That way she wouldn't have to endure the laborious process of starting a new fire. It seems the fire wasn't yet fully dead, and beneath the cinders a few warm coals could be coaxed back to life with a few pawfulls of fibrous kindling and some dedication. By the time she had the fire crackling, the sun was nearly all the way above the horizon now. The sky outside was turning a warm shade of pink. The young healer rose to her paws again, and decided to check on her mother. Lowering her head to sniff at her mother's snout, she sought out any signs of laboured breathing. Nothing stirred the fur of her snout. A chill rocketed down her spine, and every muscle in her body went taut as a bowstring. "Mama?" she croaked the word out around the distinct sensation of her heart leaping into her throat. Tongue slipping from the confines of her maw, she swiped it against her mother's nose a few times. It was cold. Too cold. A whine slipped past her pink lips now, tears burning in her mismatched eyes now. "Mama?" it was more urgent now, afraid. No, anything but this. The pale femme all but tripped over her own paws to get to her mother's flank, and frantically jam her ear up against her ribs. Silent. Not even the gurgle of churning guts. "N...o." she choked, joints giving way suddenly so she could collapse against her mother's side, rendered suddenly to no more but a frightened child. Loud, unabashed sobs wracked the wolf. Burying her face into her mother's ruff, she begged and pleaded with all of the gods that Lirika could come back. Of course, they couldn't grant her wish. "speech" THE GLOW OF THE CITIES BELOW LEAD US BACK TO THE PLACES THAT WE NEVER SHOULD HAVE LEFT