You Sweet Fool

Ashe ran out of booze two days ago. It had been easy to lose track of the days and let them all bleed together when she maintained a steady sense of numbness, summoning a jump start of electricity whenever she needed it. Sleep wasn’t exactly her friend, and avoidance of it was as natural as breathing now. She’d had to fill her wakeful hours somehow, had to fill the crushing, smothering silence that swept through her, silence only broken by vicious truths. The words kept clanging in her head with no one to hear them: ”You’re free.” She hated it. She hated those words and she hated herself. Drowning herself with a slow and steady intake of stolen liquid fire aided her in ignoring the harsh and bitter self-reminders. She was tired, gods, just so fucking tired of this, of herself. You did this, you did this, you did this. Now her bottles were bone dry, and she couldn’t stop moving. The black wolf had downed herself a rabbit that morning - a feeble bite to eat, but something to fill the clawing void in her belly, but she was unfocused on the hunt. She had torn it apart and moved on quickly, bounding here and trotting there, never quite stopping. Her pelt seemed to be permanently bristled, and no matter how far she ran, there was no easing the tightness in her chest. Her paws ached and her head was pounding by now, she she was starting to consider visiting the domiciles again and helping herself to some stranger’s personal stash when a smell hit her. Leaves crunched softly as her paws halted abruptly, her head picking up as she stilled entirely. Nostrils flared as she inhaled deeply and filled her lungs with the scent - wind and valleys, forests and wine, another wilder smell that was familiar and complexly intertwined with it. It was close - close enough that she realized it was almost upon her. How had she missed it? The scent of blood hit her next, gamey and thin. She’s hunting. The wolf flicked her ear, her eyes staring into the brush for a long moment. Run. That was her first instinct. If she ran enough, surely they would give up looking for her. Why would they want to see her anyways? She was sure they all knew, sure they saw what she had so stupidly done. ”You ever hurt him, I’ll kill you myself.” The words Dev had said to her the very night they met. She couldn’t face him, couldn’t face any of them. Better to try and leave them be. Better to lose herself until she could understand what to do with the twisted and broken thing that was her soul. She found herself moving forward in spite of herself. The wolf’s heart pounded, but she carefully shook her pelt and adjusted the crude harness bags she’d fashioned some week before. The scent grew clear quite rapidly, and she was able to seperate it from pheasant and the rest of the woodlands. She didn’t bother to quiet her steps - it was a skill she still wasn’t great at with four paws and a heavier body - and she soon lowered her head to step through a thin thicket of bushes. Ashe halted and stilled once more when golden eyes fell upon the huntress, and there was a very unexpected and powerful constriction in her throat as she silently stared at her mother. Vervain ashetta it's live or die my way.