call to the wolves

Desdemona was on the fine-line of near the end of adulthood, and onto the age of elderly. She was there, yet not, and she knew the seventh year was coming as the gray hairs would show itself, and the pains within her joints are arriving. She was not getting younger, and it didn't feel right for a retirement, for even in end would she attempt to defend Empyrean, even as a grizzly old woman.

Although fate decided otherwise, for the life that came just as it left. Settled onto the peaks of Empyrean, she so rested — only to never wake again. Dressed in the golden sunrise, the shadow of the guards would give her final rest in the home she settled by.

But be known to readers, she was proud for her life and did not regret much, only that of her siblings. Yet the life of Empyrean, Moonspear and even Morningside was beloved and proud of, and even in the afterlife, she would say she would die for those who took her in.

Desdemona lived a proud life, and her fate would be met in peace.

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Eventually enough time passed and inevitably, Empyrean's other guardians grew suspicious when Desdemona's presence grew faint. It was not like her at all--of this there was no doubt. Even to slack behind at all was concerning in the first place, especially for her, so the dawning realization that she was not among them lately weighed on him quick. It sent the dark Beta up the mountain to track and with some effort, he did find something that felt like a good heading to track her with. He followed it hungry for answers.

The longer he went, the more feared it had already been some time since she had last passed through this way; however it was the freshest he could find lately as he hiked into the peaks. The air thinned out noticeably, crisp, fresh--and to him, home, almost comforting. But it did not balm the foreboding sense of worry he carried up with him, though he remained dedicated to the search, sure that it would take something important to preoccupy the guard this severely.

It all paid off in time, his nose rewarding him first confirmation as he closed in, but when he had visual of her there motionless, he agonized with new concern--what had happened! New panic spiked his furs, worry now at the forefront when she did not react to him at all, normally one of the sharpest among them. Jarilo did not smell blood, or wounds, or even a sign of a struggle. He was beside her soon after, nosing against her neck to be sure she wouldn't rouse and to see her better up close. But she didn't answer him, unresponsive and still. Unexpectedly peaceful, almost. Death's cold touch upon her, undeniably so.

Defeated next to her and whining quietly, he clenched his jaw and hated the finality of this finding with no other choice but to accept it. Despite his efforts, she wouldn't wake. She was gone. Besides something inescapable deep in all of them, he couldn't know why exactly either. Jarilo only hoped she had enjoyed her days with them of the mountain, as he had running alongside her.

He didn't understand this cruel world sometimes, and pained, he took a slow step back to raise his nose for a mournful howl. It wasn't easy to say, and sorrow rose with his notes.

Desdemona has joined the stars.

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Hydra raced toward the song.

No.

In her heart, it felt wrong. Wrong for Desdemona, who had felt like a pillar here, a pillar to her, to go without her. To go now. Hydra ran and ran until she came across Jarilo, and there before him was her. Here and now she could not process, and Hydra moved toward Desdemona with the eyes of a nonbeliever. She is just tired, she would tell herself. She works so hard...

But the telltale signs were there, even if she did not want to see them. Know them for what they were.

She moved toward Desdemona, her nose placed against her brow. She remembered finding her here, the relief—how they had warmed themselves upon a sunrock similar to the one upon Moonspear. How cold this moment was to contrast that. How terrible. Any other memories she built up a damn against, lest other emotions flood to the fore and she give way and break to this grief. “Rest now,” she murmured, “you have served Moonspear, and Empyrean, well.” It was an effort, for her voice not to break. And she too lifted her head to cry out to the stars with the same song as her brother.

It was him who she moved to the side of, him who she pressed her head against as she tried to swallow when her mouth felt dry. But sucking in a breath, she stood tall. “We must bury her,” she drawled. But that felt wrong then, too.

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He had heard the call of his uncle first, sorrow laced in the tune as his mother soon joined in equally distressed. He knew not what pained them, only that they had been wounded. For once though, he had been confronted with a wound unlike any he had faced before. Quick paws led him along the fresh scents of his family. Gold eyes would lead to the stilled body and then the faces of those still living as the spoke just out of earshot for the boy to catch what had occurred...

but truthfully he was not so oblivious to put two and two together on his own.

Raiden was no stranger to death. He killed to eat and live and he had watched bodies still time and time again. He only did not expect to see it happen in the face of someone he knew. The boy's paws grew still a few yards away as he locked his sights on the silent woman. Silent in life and now forever silent in death. “What happened?” He couldn't smell blood, but he wasn't under the impression that anyone in Empyrean was so close to death.

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The howl was heard, and her heart thumped. Within her lifetime, they had lost no one yet. No one that was close, not one that was called an aunt, or family by another. A blissful dream, and though hard training and knowledge not everywhere was safe ; death seemed to elude Ara's thoughts. Through the mountains the daredevil prowled through, before arriving by her brothers side, and slowing moving toward Hydra. An affection of touch, as she too felt saddened by this.. Newfound death.

The woman named Desdemona laid comfortably before them, she was silent like an endless dream ; but she breathed no more. Aged as she was, it still seemed far too young for her to pass.. Was it anymore more then just that? She wasn't sure.

But she was here, and wanted to send her body to the earth itself, and call to the stars to wish her a safe passage.

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His mourning song tapered away to silence, and as it traveled the mountain winds, he was left there with the weight of his message with his friend's lifeless body to now account for. He was in no hurry, this finding was fresh and raw still, but he couldn't leave her for carrion. Plus, he still wondered of the cause... with nothing obvious to see, no explanations written into her flesh; Jarilo was not used to a wolf's finished body seeming so... serene.

He blinked and realized that Hydra had come not long after, first to come face the despair and reality of it. With that, he whined quietly once and let her greet the sad fact for herself--moving aside just enough, though hovering close no matter how much he hated all of this. No part of him was ready to say his farewells for good and he leaned against his sister for new strength. “Yeah, somewhere close. She... picked a good spot,” he managed to say, quietly, and gestured his muzzle towards a vague enough nearby. Perhaps they could find a feature to use to mark her last rest. Something of significance--as she deserved for someone important to them, and as Hydra said, to Moonspear, and now its eternal Empyrean.

Younger Ostregas eventually began to trickle in and Jarilo cast his sister a glance. “Desdemona has reached her final rest,” he answered first in a way to ease himself into this news. He hated it, though her lifeless body spoke well for itself and they raised keen young--he wouldn't have to spell it out for them. “I noticed she was scarce on the patrols out of nowhere. Not normal, so..” he drew off into the obvious implication here. He went looking eventually. They had often crossed paths, or wandered concurrently. They had even ranged beyond the mountain not that long ago. Jarilo had not noticed anything amiss, not that he had ever been specifically looking. She was older than some of them, sure, but that had not seemed to weigh her down. To him, she was always a consistent force. “I found her here, already gone. I don't know why exactly,” he gestured, eyes squeezing shut as he exhaled. She had not been ill, or seemingly injured. Not that he knew. “We can't leave her to the scavengers, so need to make her worthy grave,” his face was tense, trying to keep his emotions reined back carefully.

He had lost a dear friend today.

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