The Lupa listened while the three replied; closing her eyes as she carefully heard the way their feet shuffled on the floor while two of the three nervously moved around. She could feel the prickle of unease on them and made sure to keep her eyes closed now so that the sightless orbs wouldn’t make them any more nervous than they already were after being singled out by the Lupa of the pack. “There are towels in the closet down the hall and warm water from the tap. Could you bring them to me in the den please?” She asked the girl, stepping away from the door slightly, her toes touching the floor quietly as she walked, her feet bare and the nerves in her feet very sensitive to the movements and touch of the floor on the bottoms. It was how she often found her way around, with her feet and hands instead of her eyes. There were no scars on any of her visible skin, none but the single line across her eyes that stuck out against the smooth pallor of her usual skin.
Walking passed the three of them she walked into the main hall of the ground floor and followed it towards the den where she had found the bodies earlier that morning. They were still in the same place on the rug, the floor stained with their blood and the scent of death hit her hard enough that she stopped in the doorway for a moment. She hated this feeling, every time that a wolf died, she could hear their soul around and listen to it mourn its own death. It got stronger every passing year and yet she couldn’t find it in herself to just ignore it, it was her duty to listen when others couldn’t. Stepping toward the wolves corpses she knelt next to them and touched a hand to their fur, finding the places they were injured and she could feel tears stinging in the back of her eyes. She could practically see the two dead wolves in front of her and it tore at her like nothing else but her mates own death could.
Valerie shook her head, reaching back a hand to pull her hair away from her and she tied it with a ribbon that had been sitting around her wrist, tied tightly where she had put it earlier that morning without a thought toward it but now the black silk became of use to hold back the pale pink while she found each and every of the wounds that tore the flesh of the two. Her hands were spattered with their blood, her fingers covered in it and flakes of dry liquid clinging to her clothes.
Love Dove