Epitaph Destruction ooc. liquid timed to some time after the fire has run its course, and its mostly safe to return to the thicket. It was time to return to the garden. There had been time for the fire to die down, leaving only a few patches of smouldering ground. They could be easily avoided by cautious paws like his own. He wanted to revisit the site of the garden, and see if anything had survived the blaze. Unlikely, but he wasn't willing to give up hope on his precious creation. He was bringing Motif with him, as she had helped him with a large portion of its creation. It was as much her garden as it was his, and he was selfishly hoping she would be just as crushed by its loss as he. Then, perhaps, he could focus on consoling a child than grieving the loss of his one, meagre attempt at redemption. He couldn't muster up the words to speak to the young girl as they headed into the heart of the once lush Thicket. Instead, he was morose as ever. That could easily be blamed on being faced with the devastation of the flames on his sanctuary. The ground was charred almost everywhere, a clear path of the flames through the territory. It didn't take long to reach the ground of their garden, marked by borders made of river stones, charred to match the earth beneath them. The waif stood stock still, blinking like a deer in the headlights. He'd known in his heart that it would be gone, but that hadn't made it any easier to be faced with the truth. The dark pelted male sucked in a deep breath, and let it escape in a shuddering whoosh. Verdant gaze swept away from the carnage of his garden, to his young niece. He tried to gauge her reaction, recognize the emotions on her face. Though he was himself blinking away burning tears, he wanted to be sure she was not as distressed. For her sake, he wanted to be the strong one. "Speech"

Epitaph had asked her to accompany him to the thicket, and well it had spiked her anxiety, she had agreed. She tried not to show him how she felt about that. How the memories of running in circles in the tall grasses with the smell of smoke and the heat of the fire, coming closer, closer, still gave her nightmares. She had been certain for a moment that she would die.

Now the thicket was gone, the tall grasses she had so enjoyed playing in, where gone. The flat earth looked barren and wrong, and as she and her uncle approached, she turned her head away and almost cried.

She didn’t want to think about the herb garden her and Epitaph had worked on. How it had been something they could do together. Poem had Shaye and her mentoring to be Alpha, she had Epitaph and the herb garden. Now one was gone, and she could feel her Uncle close to tears beside her.

She braved crossing over for his sake, of waking through the hot earth and wincing as she felt it in her tender toes. She stuck close to her uncle, barely seeing the surroundings until he stopped suddenly beside her. She looked up to see what had caught his attention so, and would find the river stones that had marked their garden. A cry escaped her, and she lurched forward, looking for the spot where she had planted her first flower, and waited day and night for it to grow. How she had almost damaged its roots, and Epitaph had fixed it, helped it to grow like he possessed magic of the earth. It was gone, there was not a single piece of evidence that it had ever been at all. The girl wailed at her lose, digging at the earth like she could find the flower hidden there.

Epitaph Destruction Motif's piercing cry was like a physical blow to the dark furred male, who felt as though the wind were knocked out of him as she fled his side. She went straight to where she had planted the marigolds, where they had both eagerly waited for them to bloom. Her frantic digging flung ash and earth every which way, and left him choking on the fine debris as it filled the air. Her initial cry was soon followed by an awful wailing, accompanied by fat tears rolling down her round cheeks. Soft shushing sounds whispered past the male's dark lips as he slid up alongside the young girl, sliding his right foreleg along her flank to let her know he was there. "It can be fixed, my love." he crooned softly, the tenderness marred by the rasping of his battered throat. "Come here," he pleaded quietly, rolling his weight back onto his haunches so he could reach out his right forelimb in an attempt to pull her into his chest. He would seek to embrace her loosely, and draw her attention away from the carnage wrought by the flames. "we can try again, it is not the end." he promised softly. "Speech"

Motif Destruction She cried for what she had lost, for the time and care she and her Uncle had put into this garden. At the way her world had changed so drastically, of the taste of fear in the wolves around her. She cried for the fear she had felt when she had been trapped in the fire. Her Uncle was there after a moment, his leg touching hers, a steady comfort. He moved to pull her against his chest, and she allowed him to do so. She let off her digging, her paws black with mud and soot, her tears leaving clear trails through sooty cheeks. She fell back against her Uncle, sniffing lightly as she thought about the flowers, of her Uncle’s tenderness with the garden. He had truly loved it, had loved growing things and working with her. He had laughed, and he hadn’t looked so.. So beaten down, during those moments. “It had no right!” she said angrily. “We planted them, and tendered them, and it broke it, and it had no right” "Speech"

Epitaph Destruction Her delicate form pressed tightly against his chest, the male wrapped his forelimb more tightly around her shoulders. Dark chin tipped downward to caress the top of her head tenderly with his tongue, clearing away the soot and ash that had gathered in her downy fur. It didn't taste good, but it was a hardship he was more than willing to bear for his niece. He would offer comfort however he could. The heaving of her tiny form against his chest as she sniffled and hiccuped her way out of the hysteria was almost too much to bear. He wished he could take it all away from her, the fear and the stress. What were a few more bricks atop a load as large as his? “It had no right!” came the indignant cry of a child so woefully wronged by the world. “We planted them, and tendered them, and it broke it, and it had no right” she all but shrieked. He hummed softly in agreement, letting the sound reverberate through his chest for a beat or two. She was not wrong, and it was all too cruel that she would be forced to learn of the intricacies of the world around her at such a young age. Motif didn't deserve that. He sucked in a deep breath, letting it fill his chest, and holding it for a moment, before letting it slip through his nose. "It pains me that you have to learn this so young, my love." he murmured gently, dipping his muzzle back down to softly nuzzle the base of her skull if she allowed. "The world around us is unkind." he let the words fall as gently as they could, but nothing could soften the blow of that harsh truth. "So we must put in the effort to make it kind ourselves," he continued, cautious of how she might take this. "by putting our love and kindness into the world around us, like your parents do for Abaven, we are the ones who make it kind on our own. If you fill your life with love, it does not matter so much that nature is cruel." he punctuated the end of his statement by pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head, right between her round little ears, and hugging her a little tighter to his chest for a few beats. "Speech"

He hummed his agreement, and she could feel it through her chest. It soothed her surprisingly, and she fell silent and still. It was in this quiet that Epitaph would get a chance to speak, he would tell her how it hurt that she had to learn this now, this lesson on life. She whined softly once, but otherwise was still as he continued on. He would tell her how the world was cruel, that it was their duty to make the world a better place.

It was so much like the lessons her mother had repeated to her, but never before had she had such evidence of its importance. “I wanna be like you when I grow up, Taffy” she said softly, knowing how great a capacity for kindness he held. She leaned into his forehead kiss with a sigh, and let her anger out with it. “When are we going to start again Uncle, can I set the river stones?” she wanted to know.