Atticus & Phelan

Atticus had been rather angered that he couldn't stay and fight his sister's killer, though he vowed never to give that up. He knew the murder's scent and looks. That would remain with him.

Phelan crept quietly after his large brother, eyes wide but dull with shock. He trembled now and then, wrestling with his thoughts. Was this just a dream...? It seemed so unreal....

Atticus didn't notice his brother's state until he stopped in a trash-littered alley and looked back. "Stay near me." The adolescent spoke, his voice gruff but more soft and caring than usual. He had let his anger envelope him at first, shielding him from the pang of loss. Not, with his anger having no outlet, Atticus needed something else to focus himself on, or he would break down with the sorrow. "Hey, where's Lost? Sweetclover?" There was something to focus on; the living.

Phelan stared blankly at Atticus, his eyes showing no comprehension of what was asked. His mind was in a daze, and he hardly noticed the tears that seeped down the side of his dark face.

Not caring if the humans heard him or not, Atticus howled as loudly as he could, hoping the others would hear them.

Faute

Suddenly Faute appeared and slammed hard into his brother sending the two of them tumbling, Faute not caring though. He saw Phelan then whirled as fast as he could towards Atticus, panting heavily . "Shes sick. We need to help her, she's sick." He was speaking of Sang. She had fallen through some ice and then run herself to exaustion trying to find Faute who had been at Crucifeids terriroty.

Atticus & Phelan

Atticus snarled as he hit the ground, but was on his feet in a flash, fangs bared for an attack. When he saw it was Faute, his anger diminished slightly, but his voice was still a snarl, "Who's sick? And where were you?!?" He demanded, ready to blame someone else for Laporta's death.

Phelan cowered and looked bleakly to Faute, very glad that his other brother was alive.

Faute

"Sang. And I was at a friends. Wheres mom?" He looked to Phelan still not knowing of Laporta. "Where are the girls at?" Lost and Sweetclover were not with his brother which worried Faute enough but the look his smallest brother was giving him scared him enough.

Atticus & Phelan

Atticus was fuming with anger as he shoved his muzzle into Faute's face, "Where's the girls?!? I'll tell you where, Faute!" He began, voice raised to a thundering pitch while he raised his large body so that he was looking down into his brother's eyes, "Laporta's dead, Faute, she's dead! While you were out trapsing about, she was MURDERED! And where the hell's Lost, Sang, and Sweetclover? Probably dead by now, that's where!"

Phelan shrank back, his tail tucked between his legs as he trembled uncontrollably, "Atticus... it's n-not his fault..." The runt said, knowing Atticus was out of line with his anger against Faute.

Atticus whirled around and snapped his fangs a hair's breath from Phelan's muzzle, "Not his fault? Oh yeah, and I guess it's not your fault either, hiding like a scared rabbit while I tried to save Laporta! Lots of help you were, Phelan!" In truth, Atticus hadn't wanted any of his siblings fighting; he was fearful of them getting hurt, though he wasn't likely to admit that any time soon. Right now, his emense rage was uncontrollable, and he lashed out at everyone and everything with disgregard for consequence.

Phelan was quite subdued by his brother's ferocity and the shock of all that had happened. Whimpering pitifully, he resinged from saying anything else, feeling utterly miserable and confused.