ORIGIN

The she-wolf stopped in place, eyes going wide.

They... they had to come back, didn't they? They were hers, and she was theirs. That was a fact, and facts don't change! Right?

They were family, and family stuck together. Through thick and thin, through good and bad. Even when fights went wrong, they gathered back together, nursed their wounds and made each-other feel better.

Surely, if she searched long enough, searched hard enough, she would find them. And things would be okay, again.

They had to be.

With a nod, and a shake of her head as though to cast away the troublesome thoughts, she began to walk again. The thoughts were like fleas, clinging to her fur and stinging at her when she was least expecting it, making her unable to stop thinking about it.

She wanted Mama back, wanting to curl up near her and listen to her honking breaths as she slept. Wanted Papa back, to ball up against his side and bask in his heat. Wanted Huckleberry and Elderberry and Baneberry to be small again, when they could all fit in the nest and sleep in a heap.

Oh, poor Elderberry. He had been away for so long, trying to better himself for their family. She had hated him, for it, for a time, even though he was family. But over time her eyes had opened, and she had realized that he was just like her--wanting to become stronger and stronger, to become useful to the family. And they had drifted apart, had hardly spoken since they were children, and now he was dead.

Baneberry, she couldn't remember the last time she had seen her. She hadn't been around, much, and so it was almost impossible to say when she had up and vanished. If she had been more attentive, if she had been more protective, she could have saved her, kept her from being stolen by the Sinful Seven, kept her from being considered an enemy of the family--a traitor.

She was moving on automatic now, a slow walk that covered a great distance without taking up too much energy. Her nose remained keen for goose, and her ears twitched for Mother's voice.

Huckleberry, the black sheep of the family. He had never quite fit in; could she have done something? Stepped in, made him feel like one of them? Extended a paw, tried to do more things with him. Not left him to his own head, to simmer in his own loneliness until he was far, far away from them.

Father, who had been gone for so long. She should have tagged along with him, ambled at his heels like she used to do as a pup. Maybe then she could have kept him from up and vanishing, warned him of whoever had stolen him away, or kept him from leaving if he had left--although she dreaded to think that he would willingly leave them.

Mulberry, who had competed with her since they had hatched. She hadn't seen her since they were so, so young. What had happened to her? Had she gone off and died? Had she disappeared and left them? Surely, if she were still around, Jay would have caught even a hint of her scent. She wished that she had kept a closer eye on her, either way.

Snowberry, who had disappeared, too. Where had he gone? He had been so sweet--too sweet, for them, almost like Huckleberry in his lighter moods. But he had fought so well! Surely he hadn't been thrashed and killed, surely he had gone off to train, as Elderberry had?

Cloudberry, secretly Huckleberry's daughter. Something that, despite everything, she had always felt nothing but guilt about. If someone had tried to claim Yewberry as theirs, she would have torn them apart. And yet-and yet, Huckleberry didn't know, and Cloudberry didn't, either. It was the one thing she always held against Mother, would never forgive Mother for. Mother was... well, she was Mother; her children were everything to her, and yet she had stolen one of her children's children. And now Cloudberry had been stolen again, by someone with far more nefarious designs.

Yewberry, her own daughter. They had never quite seen eye to eye, and she had been terrified at how much of Huckleberry she had seen in her, how she could see her following in his footsteps. She had tried to correct her before she was too far gone but, perhaps, she had tried too hard. They had been at each-other's throats almost constantly before the war, and she could remember clearly the feel of hundreds of irridescent feathers clumped between her teeth.

Dewberry, Acaiberry. Both Bloodberries she had barely gotten the chance to know before they had disappeared. Dewberry, the tiny little snake that she was very concerned about. She was far too sweet for them, a gleaming diamond among rough, blunt and dull gemstones. But she wasn't capable of taking care of herself, too small and weak in Jayberry's eyes. As far as she could see, there was no other thing that could have happened to Dewberry than death. Whether she had found herself on the wrong end of a Lesser, or a Golem, or had angered a Greater, she was certain she was dead.

And Acaiberry, who had been with them for such a short period of time that she still occasionally thought of them by their dead-name. Much like Dewberry, and Snowberry, she had been very kind and sweet too, if not not too terribly bright. Jayberry was of the opinion that she had likely fled but, seeing as she preferred to think the best of those in her family, she considered Acaiberry as dead. If Acaiberry had left them, though, she fully intended on putting a swift end to Heart-Song's life.

And Hellberry... well, she wasn't sure what to make of him.

Some part of her smarted, remembering being beaten by the baby crocodile. But something about him had been wrong, had set her on edge. They were a family of killers, yes, but something about him set struck even her as wrong. He had chewed her up and, as far as she knew, mauled another Gembound, before up and leaving, and she wasn't too sorry to see him go.

If she saw him again, though, she fully intended on showing him what happened to those who abandoned the family.

Her paw caught on something, and she was torn from her thoughts. Her eyes widened, and she yelped as she found herself tumbling down an incline, head over tail.

Okay, ow, she was in pain.

Her slowly healing ribs sent agony through her, and she whimpered. A weak attempt was made to stand, but she crumpled, body crying out in desperation. She needed to rest, needed to heal. The she-wolf wheezed, eyes watering, and began to shiver.

She wanted her family, she wanted Mama and Papa and Huckle and Elder and everyone else. Someone to lay down with her and groom her fur and tell her everything would be okay. But for now she laid down, resting her head on her paws, groaning quietly. This was just perfect.