CASTLE / typhoon cub

[aine.]

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I'll come back when you call me

Sleep... Was what Aine was supposed to be doing, no doubt.  Instead, the petite vixen had snuck out to chase a moth.  Dreams.  Memories.  They haunted her.  The moth looked far more appealing.  Even if she hardly had control over her wobbly legs, attempting to trot and scramble after the fluttering insect.  She nearly fell on her face once, or twice, before her ears perked at the sound of someone calling her name.

She really shouldn't be up right now.  Guiltily, her head bowed with ears flattened, before hazel hues narrowed in confusion.  That wasn't her father calling her name.  It sounded like Trygve.  But he wasn't supposed to be all the way out here... What about his burns?

Moth forgotten (she'd lost sight of it anyhow), the fae bolted towards the sound of her friend's voice, tripping over her hooves once or twice.  "Ry?"

Her feathers ruffled at her sides, heart cinching when she tasted iron in the air.  Blood.  Her throat closed with a lump.  Blood?  In the dark, she tried to adjust, stepping forward, closer to her friend.  Her friend.  Why did her friends always get hurt?  Who hurt her friend this time?  Why?  "Ry? Where are yo- why are-"

Her heart felt like a train skidding off the tracks.  An echoing, thrumming, drum.

"Are-are you bleeding?" Why?

— aine | the pitt | commodore of the crows | fae druid —