THE PRICE YOU PAY IS YOUR VISION / papercutter

[bubblegum]

[Verdigris]

  [font=trebuchet ms]It had only been a few moments prior that Paper looked in his bag and realized his mother's book was gone.

  He had needed most of that short span of time to calm himself down. It wasn't the end of the world- the book had probably just fallen out of the bag on his way back home, so it probably wasn't damaged, and even if it was it wasn't that big a deal. Still, it was a family heirloom (for a limited definition of heirloom), and he knew he would need to find it before someone else decided to read it. What they would do with the information inside, he wasn't sure, especially if it didn't mention him anywhere, but he didn't want to risk it.

  Once he was sure he looked calm and unconcerned, he headed to the exit of his shelter, stopping only to gently pat the head of a sleeping Mira. "I'll be back soon," he said softly, twitching his tail, then stepped out into the open air. He could spy clouds in the distance, and detect a hint of ozone in the air- a storm was very likely coming. All the more reason to hurry, then.

  As his eyes landed on Gold headed decisively towards his shelter, though, he tilted his head. He rarely had visitors even on the busiest days, and as far as he knew, he hadn't signed up to host anything. Maybe it was just a coincidence? Raising a brow, he jogged over to meet her, glancing around to check who else might be coming over.

  Once he noticed the leather-bound book in her jaws, though, everything clicked. "Ah, yeah- that's mine, I was just going out to look for it," he said, with a small smile. "Thank you for bringing it over." The crisis, insomuch as it was a crisis- his priorities weren't that skewed- was averted.

  That did leave one question, though. He hadn't written his name anywhere on the covers, nor had he told anyone about the book prior to this. A flip to the first page might have revealed some details about its author, but it wouldn't make sense to anyone not in the pack. (He suspected very little of it would, actually, though he wasn't sure how far the entries went.) Twitching his ear, he asked, "How did you figure out whose it was?"

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[Verdigris]

  [font=trebuchet ms]As she clarified how she'd found out, Paper's ears subconsciously swiveled back, his brows furrowing. Ah- she had read it. He guessed there was no other way she could have known, since- as she'd said- she couldn't tell what it was about. The jargon and constant political shifts were rather difficult to follow, even for someone who was in the pack for a large part of their life. Besides, it was no stretch of belief to say that Gold had gone through the pages out of simple curiosity, and she wasn't the type to blackmail someone with their parent's writings.

  The tension melting off of his face, he chuckled softly. "It's Mom's diary," he answered, taking the book in one paw. "I haven't actually read it all yet, just a few entries." Glancing off towards the horizon, he added, "She told me to keep it when I went there, right before..."

  Bloodied cuffs. An unfamiliar haze within her golden eyes. A shaky rasp in her voice. The cloak slipping from her shoulders.

  A fallen husky, silent, curled around his newborn children even as cries rose around him.

  He swallowed. "Before she... ah." Gold had known about his reason for leaving back then- she knew what had happened to his mother- but to remind her of the matter when she had so recently experienced such grief herself seemed insensitive. Tugging lightly at his bracelet, he remained silent for a few moments, his mind simultaneously scrambling to find a way to change the subject and trying to stifle the memories that slowly welled up- his sister's shift from indignant yelling to eventual acceptance, the pack watching silently as he left again, the golden cloak on the shoulders of someone different from who he had always known.

  Finally, he shook his head. "I'm sorry. It's hard." Four words, so generic, so inadequate, so meaningless- but that was all he could come up with to both apologize for his own weakness, and to offer condolences for what she was going through.

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