[Quetsul] Regeneration.
Bundled hides, scraped and salted, sat against the far wall of the cave. She had been lucky enough to drive the previous occupant out--she'd seen the magnataur's body later, bones jutting up from the snow with scavengers gathered round--and no one had yet come to challenge her for the spot. Of course, that might have had more to do with her companions than her own strength.
At the cave entrance, a large dark-furred hyena sat, alert as could be as she kept watch over the snowy plain below. Quet had been half afraid that Hawrt would leave to join the wastes scavengers, but much to Quet's relief she'd shown no interest in any outside of their little group other than to snarl at them when they approached.
Ayo lay curled around Quet'sul, head resting in her lap. The big blue-grey raptor had added a few more feathers to his collection over the course of the hunting trip, and Quet had spent the evening carefully adding them to the ones already tied into his arm- and leg-wraps. Now he drowsed in the warmth from the fire, a contented expression settled on his face.
Opposite troll and raptor, on the other side of the fire, a thick-furred red lynx had nearly burrowed his way under the mammoth hides. Lazy though Elfy could be at times, this expedition had proven him as fierce as the others, and he'd earned his rest. Another few weeks in the North and he might even shed the extra weight he'd gained while they idled in Silvermoon.
Maybe Quet would, too. She frowned, tugging her blanket closer about her shoulders. Had there been any point to Silvermoon at all? She'd thought she loved the man. It was easy to admit, now that she saw it wasn't true at all. She'd given everything she had to be with him when he'd grimaced at the thought of living in the village with them all, she'd left her family and friends and gone to dance for the elves so she could afford a place to stay there close to him.
She'd given up her pride. The elves, she knew, did not see her beauty. To them, she was something wild and strange and most of all safe, to watch and ogle and giggle over later with their friends. How exotic. And she'd done it for him! But all he could do was grumble over it, as if he'd any say in what she did with her time, as if there was any other way.
She missed how it used to be. How he'd listen, how he cared, how all he had to do was hold her and everything would be alright again. It hadn't been that way for weeks now, though, and things weren't getting any better. She'd had no choice but to leave, before they both ruined everything. She wanted those memories, happy and untainted by how things had changed. Even another week might have poisoned them for her.
She wasn't in love with him. She loved the man she'd first met, and there was no getting him back. She'd tried--he'd taken her back, hadn't he? But she'd broken things between them beyond repair, she knew that now. No amount of regret could soften the edge of bitterness that crept into his voice, or the jealousy in his looks, and it wasn't that she didn't deserve it, or that she resented him for it, but out here she at least had the excuse of distance for missing him.
She clenched her fists tighter around the blanket, fighting back tears as the ache in her chest rose again. Ayo stirred and opened an eye, and she turned her attention to the raptor, stroking his scales and humming softly until he drifted off to sleep again. She was strong, she reminded herself. She'd mourn this loss like any other, and in the end she'd make it through. And if it took growing a new heart to do that, well. She was Darkspear, wasn't she?