Citlali had slumbered in a soft silence. Enwrapped in the embrace of unfeeling, not even the gaping hole that was her stomach. Quetzalli—Ma, had gone, Itzcoatl ran after her. Pa had died. Ashkii disappeared; Naira insisted that he left, a coward. But Citlali knew he wouldn't do such a thing.

Alas, whether his action was inadvertently done or not, the effects still lingered. Naira was only so strong. She could only bring back so much prey, and instinct could not resist eating most of it—otherwise, she would starve herself.

Citlali was content. To be not a parasite.

It was nightfall when the last breath was drawn.

Yet, it wasn't; Cloudy blue eyes rose, a pale pink nose twitched at the realization that the world had shifted around her. Birdsong reverberated in a way that it could only do so in a woodland. She was no longer in that small ditch, carved into a prairie, resting with her sister. This was somewhere else, entirely.

The scent of flora permeated between the trees, reaching Citlali, ever confusing. ...Naira, the soft voice rose, Naira. ¿Dónde estamos (where are we)?

Naira was absent, wasn't she?

Disappointment weighed the blind wolf's body back down, her chin resting once again against her pale paw. She always thought she'd at least be able to see in the afterlife.