Work Text:
Deimos stumbled after Sister and Brother, their paces matching his. He sneezed, whining at Brother, who was walking alongside him.
Brother placed his nose on his little brother’s ear, huffing a comforting tone. Deimos sniffed, sensing grief under Brother’s happiness. Something was wrong.
He pulled away, searching Brother’s eyes. The both of them held their gazes, a flurry of emotions revealing themselves in Echo’s gaze.
Sadness, anger, grief. A sad kind of happiness at seeing Deimos, if only for a short time. He gave a wag of his tail, to try and comfort them both.
Sister gave a tired growl. It was strained, with the same grief not as hidden in it. Wait.
Where was Mother? Deimos forced the world to come into focus, to see where his siblings were leading him. A brown clump of fur lied against the dirty, sandy ground.
The scent of death washed over him, filling his nose with the feelings of despair and rage. And then, a familiar smell of roses and thorns and love made his nose twitch.
Mother.
They were showing him Mother. The one who had protected them, fed them and loved them. She'd been there for Deimos when he'd been feeling sick. When Father had died protecting his siblings when Deimos had slept in his den. She'd returned to him to tell the news.
Deimos had not believed her then until his siblings had butted in.
Brother had been there to play with him. Sister had been there to comfort him. Mother had been there to love him.
He'd barely known Father. He'd only been a few months old when he died, sleeping in his den most of the time to get better when he'd fallen sick.
Now, Mother was dead. As dead as the grass around him, as dead as the silence. Quiet as the wind when it ruffled his fur.
An involuntary whine escaped his lips, her torn fur coming into view as he sat down beside Mother. He placed his head on her neck, deeply breathing in for her scent, for her love.
Brother whined from behind him, and a muzzle ruffled his ear as he scented Sister. She huffed and sniffed at Mother, as if to say ‘I love you, Deimos. She did too.’
Deimos whined at her, nuzzling her cheek, taking in her smell of Mother’s rosy tang.
A cold breeze swept over them, carrying along the scent of thorns and roses. Deimos turned his head upward, howling out his grief.