the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives
I am sorry to hear that, she says. It must be difficult to watch. His lips tilt ruefully. “Which is why I don't — not anymore.” And then Daemron sees it. A glimpse of flame. A bright spark flickering beneath a heavy veil of practiced perfection. A fire that burns as she speaks of her sister.
She must have felt his eyes on her (focused and intense) for when she catches him watching, she seems to draw the cloak tight again. He tilts his head at her and wonders just how brightly she could burn. Although he knows the moment has passed, he asks, “What's her name?” Perhaps if she told him more about Ilka he would catch another glimpse of her, through the sister she loved.
Pyxis goes on to say that she might follow them, and though she smiles he considers her comment with a serious expression. Coming to a decision, the chestnut steps forward, brushing his muzzle to her shoulder in a faint nudge. The wolf, too, rises suddenly from beneath the tree. Keen eyes flashing at the pair, she flexes her freshly-cleaned claws through the dirt and slinks casually to the stallion's side.
“Come on,” Daemron says to Pyxis, turning southeast. Without pause, Red picks out an unseen trail and starts off ahead. “I want to show you something.” His lips form a brief smile, ears flicking as he hears Red slipping through the underbrush. “You'll like it,” he adds, eyes lingering on the blue of her gaze before he turns to follow the ruddy wolf into the trees, glancing over his shoulder to see if Pyxis really would follow them after all.
so I did a thing. the thing is in forlorn forest. [runs away]