Sesshomaru left Rin wrapped in a blanket by the fire.

At night, there was no choice but to keep her close, warming her with his blood-heat and fur. Summer had long lapsed into autumn. The leaves were still green however, only now changing into yellows and browns.

How silvery her breath in the darkness of night.

Rin deserved better than a cold wash in the morning. So tonight he would roam, and when he was done he'd make his way back to her, and the face he was helpless to stop himself from touching.

Sesshomaru flew for hours until arriving in the north. He landed softly on the ground, inhaling deep the crisp air. He reached out with every sense, scrunching leaves under his boots so all would hear him coming.

But something was off.

Are demons scheming?

Complete and utter silence when there should have been night-song or other signs of life.

Then it hit him—the scent of blood and rotting meat.