She lets the hours tick by from the sidelines, watching the sky change and shift between blue skies and thin wefts of fat clouds. The shade she has found herself in is slowly growing smaller. Heat picks away at her with needy grasps. She tries to count the days leading up to Tallsun and the amount of Aloe Vera she’ll need to drag out of the desert to treat both her own burns and those of her herdmates. She even attempts to sleep, but the weather wins her over.
Hobgoblin has chosen to reside in the lake for the time being. As she stands, pulling herself out of the fire-coloured dust and promptly shaking, his eyes haunt her like a ghost, seeing the world through her eyes. He recedes into the abyss where she cannot reach for his hand, and for a split second, she feels the slightest hint of his body morphing, taking place somewhere where she can’t see him.
He’s by her side within minutes, sprinting in a lazy gallop with black legs bouncing over the ground. Neither feel resentment towards one another when Sikeax has chosen to walk along without him, or when the Rougarou abandons her side to hunt. The dark form fades into the outskirts of the grass, chasing things she has no interest in. She doesn’t fill the empty spaces in his eyes when he is gone. Something about his world when he hunts makes her want to empty herself into the ocean, far away from the squeals and screams of pain that cry from the mouths of wounded and dying animals.
Grass takes up space between her teeth just as Hobgoblin’s prey does, but only one stomach finds itself full.
The heat gains the upper ground within thirty minutes of walking, and as the rocky outcrops increase in number, the possibility of discovering one large enough to house both her and her brother increased.
Some contain gifts, whether it be birds resting that either fall prey to Hobgoblin’s jaws or flee with the best speed they can muster, or small animals that simply do not care for the Rougarou’s presence. One in particular brings something the shifter doesn’t want.
A child.
Yellow eyes stare for what feels like hours, watching the silver child with curiosity and slight displeasure. While Sikeax might love the presence of a child, Zhu’s growth has left children to have a bitter taste in his mouth. They change and then no longer care, he cannot permanently win and control them either. Violent flicks of a long, slender tail follow,
“Found another Zhu.”
Huh?
“Silver Zhu.”
Wrinkles rise from her features as she becomes more puzzled, peering through his eyes for a short amount of time to discover what exactly he means. A child. A small one, with wings and a face that reminds her strongly of someone special.
Volterra.
By some unspoken law, she feels that it is now her responsibility to see this child and assure that they are okay. Mothers may leave their children hidden away from the heat, and while she typically wouldn’t bother them anymore other than asking if they knew their mother was returning soon and if they were fine, Zhu’s potential half-brother carries a heavier weight on her chest. They are family, some way or another.
He is amazingly still there when she arrives, despite Hobgoblin’s blazen choice of form. A frown forms on her lips as he stares at her through empty eye sockets and a skinless face that hides the fact that he is pleased. She can feel it hanging the room like thick, dusty air. It smells of death.
“Are you okay?” Her voice is soft, dry. The air feels tight with the increasing heat. “Where is your mother?” She lets her head dip to his level, almost invading his hiding spot as she inspects him. The paintings across his face don’t perfectly match that of which she’s seen on His face, but the red eyes are a dead giveaway. A short twist comes up in her stomach.
“Your problem now.”

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