Their queen was dead.

Var had instructed the pack to lay her to rest along the southern border, on a bluff overlooking the lake. It felt only fitting, but as they buried their queen it began to drizzle slowly, as if the sky itself were weeping for their loss.

A heavy air fell over the pack, and Var felt his shoulders droop as he lead the pack in a howl. Their sorrowful song rose to the heavens, echoing their anguish.

With heavy paws, Var returned to the den. Drops of mist clung to his thick pelt, weighing him down even more than his mood. His golden markings, usually so bright and vibrant, dulled. So much had gone wrong. A second oracle dead. Their queen, at that.

With a lumbering sigh, the giant wolf collapsed onto his side in a bed of dry grasses within the den, back to the outside world. The pack wasn't ready for this. He wasn't ready for this. The young were going to need him now. They were going to need his advice and guidance, and Var needed to grieve. He had come accustomed to seeing his packmates die before him, but this death was a true loss for the pack. The oracle was important. How was the goddess to speak to them without her?

A new oracle would have to be chosen, but the royal line...

Var huffed again, and closed his eyes. His thoughts were too much. Today was too much.

It was time to grieve. Thinking could come later...

"A terrible day for rain indeed," the wolf replied coolly, his eyes leaking as tears again streamed down his face. They burned hot, They stung his skin as they soaked through his fur, but none would see him cry. His pelt was too dark, the trails of tears lost among the darkness of Var's very being.

He rose to his paws, a towering figure among the other wolves. They needed him. Now more than ever, in this cruel hand dealt to them by the very goddess they sought for protection.

No Var, he thought, you must not let yourself give in to doubt. Feaya has to have had her reasons, otherwise...

The potential answers made his blood run cold.

Pushing them aside, the wolf sat next to Lyth, curling his tail around her as he crooned, "I know, my sweet. It is a hard truth to bear." He nuzzled the pup's neck, breathing heavily into her fur. She was likely cold; scared, too. His poor daughter. His poor packmates...

The Enkratis had never suffered a blow like this before. Not in the many hundreds of years he'd lived among them. The devastation, the heartache...

And then Cyan spoke out. Var's lips curled into a snarl as his hackles bristled.

"What know you of guidance, pup?" He shot back, rising to all fours with his tail held high. "You who have only briefly been among your own people?" A deep growl rumbled within his throat. "You speak as though you knew her well, pup, but I can assure you, you know nothing of her or what she was." Var huffed through his nose, blowing smoke as the temperature around him rose, drying his fur and the fur of those around him. "You are not fit to lead, little prince. And you will never be half the leader she was, royal blood or no." His eyes were cold; unyielding. There was much to do, and the pack did indeed need guidance.

He spat embers onto a pile of dry wood, igniting a fire and casting warmth into the cold den.

Feeling Shade's eyes upon him, the wolf gave a nod. "Shade," he barked, "I need you on border patrol with Stitches. If you come across any others, bring them with you." Turning his attention to the rest of the pack, he continued. "The rest of you, gather around the fire and warm yourselves. Even though the sun still warms us, the days shorten as winter draws closer. I don't want anyone falling ill."

Pacing around one end of the fire, the wolf shook himself. "I fear the Chortari may try and attack us in our time of weakness. It certainly wouldn't be the first time..." He trailed off, recalling visions of gnashing white teeth spilling blood on the soil of the borderlands. "No one goes anywhere alone. Travel in groups of three. Young ones, stay in the den." His gaze fell pointedly on Lyth.

"Any questions?"