The thin, frail form huddled miserably just within the mouth of the cavern might have belonged to a strangely marked fox were it not so large. Even with the almost skeletal appearance the ginger-colored canine with the pointed, vulpine features would have towered over any fox were she standing. Which, as previously stated, she was not, as she was currently pressed quite unhappily against the cave wall with tears tracking down over the gold freckles under her eyes. The cause of the tears was further back into the cave. She'd ventured in there despite the terrifying blackness of the cave to escape a sudden thunderous downpour and then, when the skies had cleared, she'd found the noon sun had completely illuminated the interior, temporarily washing away her fears and revealing several pools stocked with fat, lazy fish who barely moved at all. It had been in watching the fish that instinct took over for the more-than-half-starved girl and she'd found herself with her fangs buried in the spine of a fish. The thing had thrashed and thrashed and died and she'd panicked and dropped it, fleeing out here to retch and sob. She'd killed it, the poor fish! It had just been sitting there... well, swimming there, and she'd had to go in and bite it and ruin everything just like she always did. She was a horrible, awful person and that's why Bera had gone off, because she didn't want to be around a horrible, awful person like Eostre. She pressed her tear-streaked face against the cool wall of the cavern, simply overwhelmed by misery. Speech

The brute had been off since the lightning strike. He'd been physically sound after the initial shock of it, but it was like the little things that made him tick were shorted. He'd go without eating for days, the loss of an appetite going unnoticed until he was almost too weak to carry on. Valentine had alternated between sleeping constantly and not sleeping at all, and his joints ached as if he were in elderly. Each and every aspect of his life had been thrown into chaos. From the way he thought to the way he moved; everything had been out of whack. Slowly a sense of normalcy had returned. The wound down his leg was in the final stages of healing and showed no sign of permanent damage, save for the odd, twisting scar he was sure to have on his forelimb. It ached occasionally and seemed pick up the mood of the atmosphere; he always knew when a storm was forming. Always. He'd known he was nearing the end of his recovery when the itch to roam had set in. It was that itch that had brought him to the South. A hint of orange drew his attention to the mouth of the cave. For a long moment, Valentine studied the figure. If he wasn't mistaken, those were tears running down that wolf's cheek. He harrumphed to himself, ready to turn away and abandon the girl to her excess of emotions, but then reconsidered. One soot tipped ear flicked back in uncertainty. He lingered for many more seconds before sourly giving in and padding towards the girl. Perhaps, like he had been, this one had been heartbroken by those she held dear. He couldn't just leave her to wallow in her misery. Not wanting to startle her, Valentine cleared his throat before speaking. "Are you alright?" His eyes took in the thin form, the gaunt features. She looked old enough to handle herself. Perhaps she was sick? Oh man, he hoped not. With his luck he'd do a good deed and catch rabies or something. "Speaking" Thinking

A voice suddenly interrupting her misery was shock enough to instantly stop her tears, her vulpine face whipping to face the intruder and she cringed back despite the obvious care he'd taken to not startle her. Her stomach twisted sickly at the towering, dark-coated male standing there, but it was his question that reminded her about her dreadful mistake and made her want to retch, and she started to cry all over again. "No I'm not okayyyy," she wailed. "I killed it, it was beautiful and it was happy and I killed it and I'm a monsterrrrrr." The waif-like youth buried her freckled face between her forepaws and shook with silent sobs, totally oblivious to whatever effect her hysterics might have on the male. She wasn't, as many did, doing it for attention, so she was despite her anxiety naively unaware of the sort of bad attention her obvious distress might bring. She was, however, acutely and painfully aware that she was making a horrible first impression on the big male - though she incorrectly assumed it would be her fish-murder that would make him think badly of her - and it made her just ill thinking about it. ""

She snapped around to face him; her reaction exactly what he'd been hoping to avoid. His words appeared to have an effect on the girl and immediately unleashed a torrent of emotion. She wailed, clearly distraught, and one of Valentine's ears flicked back at the noisy assault. Killed "it"? Whatever it was, it couldn't be that bad if she called it an "it" instead of a 'he' or a she'. Okay...now, how exactly did one go about being comforting? Clearly she'd gone off the deep end. He shifted his weight from paw to paw. "You're not a monster." Okay, that was a decent start... Now what? "Maybe you can help me understand where you're at a bit better. What did you kill?" "Speaking" Thinking