ѕнινєя

It isn't a wail, or a scream, or even a howl that ripples through her at the sight of the tiny, limp body bleeding out over the cold, gray stone. It's a shiver, strong enough to make her spine ache, that leaves her feeling hollow deep inside. To feel empty is something she has never experienced before, the painful throbbing in her heart so strange she thinks she might be injured within.

Crimson leaves, abandoning the corpse. The path is familiar beneath her paws, swooping and curving to deposit her in the scraggly mountain forest she'd walked so many times with him. Her mind does not linger on those moments now, far too focused on the goal at paw.

Standing silently by the grave so meticulously looked after by none other than herself she allows a single moment of weakness, a single tear which has her muse if she is broken. "You wouldn't have done this to me, would you?"

The question remains unanswered.