It seemed even the paradise of lovers was not untouched by the darkness that was sweeping the land. After seeing her parents clutched in Death's fingers, Hotaru had begun to doubt herself and her mission. It had rattled her to see her mother pale and beautiful even in death cradled by the snows of the Steppe. No matter how the she-wolf had hated her parents, there were still scattered memories of joy and laughter, and she was mortal nonetheless. Even still she refused to succumb to her own weakness, making herself an example for Arya.

She had to persevere.

Birdsong had clutched the Grove with abandon, until greenery flourished and sprouted like weeds. The waters were blue with their frigid brilliance, a mockery of the death that had occurred. Murder, she corrected herself sternly. Not that it really mattered, truly. Hotaru was not interested in social justice excluding her parents. The bodies were just that to her, corpses that meant little to her. She did not attempt to find the killer in a group only because her first priority was Arya and her herd. Her herd which was fully capable of defending itself, massive as it was.

Her ribs no longer dance with shadows, greenery returning her slim but able figure from the cages of winter's barrenness. She moved swiftly with this recovered energy, sweeping in like the vulture her Goddess has required her to be.

She doesn't really care, she merely wants the power to protect her family. Her huntress.

So even though she finds it revolting she rips the charred flesh from the stranger's body. It tastes disgusting and she feels horrifically cannibalistic. She nearly wants to vomit but gagging suffices. Blood s stale and charred on her tongue as she gouges the already dead body. Dropping the mutilated pieces of evidence into the little pouch of woven ferns, she can hardly restrain the convulsing of her throat as she yanks beautiful blue hairs from her former herdmate to add to the basket, until she gags and runs to the water to wash her tongue of the taste. It does little to help and she feels distinctly sick. Stumbling away, her shame is far stronger than stealing from her own parents murder scene. She only hopes nobody saw her sins.