So, she had run, and she had run far. Perhaps she should have waited to see the aftermath and yet, why? Whoever won would have the honor of taking hostages and she did not wish to by one of them - she had attacked a wolf, two wolves, who she did not know and she wished not to answer to them, not until things were... straighter at least. She had run until her shoulder had given way, the swelling and ache too great to bare. Part of her told her to return to Diveen to her mother, and yet another part told her she needed to go to Spirane where that male, Sleekwing, was. Above all else, however, she told herself she needed to find Rogue. It had been her fault that Rogue had to run, had to fight, had to anything against her own will. It was her fault, somehow she was sure, that there had even been a war in the first place. Maybe she should have punished Devil May Cry as the Dark Angel of Diveen. Maybe she should have damn well taken to Iromar herself and offered herself up as a condolence. Surely there was something she could have done that would have ultimately ended in Rogue being safe.

How long had it been since she had run from the fray? She'd stopped counting the nights and days, each one seemingly blurring into the next. She had spent most of her days tending to her own wounds and hobbling across the territories in search of Rogue, her pelt scabbed and raw, scars she did not wear proudly. In each new crater, she avoided them all, even those that reeked of Diveen or strangers who looked concern. If they weren't Rogue then they weren't important. Where could she have been? She had searched the outer regions. She had searched Diveen in case she had escaped to the den they had shared and she had checked the perimeter of Iromar. In a desperate last ditch effort, she had begun her slow journey towards the midst of Glorall. Why she would go to such a pack, she had no idea. It just... made sense to search every last inch of Moladion, or to search until she could no longer walk. That was her plan - she'd keep going until her body gave out to exhaustion or infection.

She had been trekking along the outer region of Susil Crags, her pace slow and her nose glued to the surface of the earth, sucking in every last scent in a desperate plea to find the one she had been searching for. It was only when she finally rose to sniff at the air, releasing a sigh of exasperation, did she find a scent that perked her interest. Lupine blood though hardly fresh at that, and yet not of her own. Maybe it had been sheer luck that she had decided to follow the scent, dragging herself over the stones and dirt until an all too familiar form rose in the distance. A form of crimson and black, torn and reeking of old, dried blood.

"Rogue..."

She breathed the word, sighing in relief as she plodded forward. She was, of course, unworthy to approach such a wolf, one she had brought such misfortune upon and yet she needed to speak just the once. She would not blame Rogue if she took instantly to her throat - that would be fine, so long as she could murmur the last words she needed to say before she bled out.

"Rogue."

She called out louder this time, coming within yards of the female before stopping. She stood awkwardly, her shoulder swollen and forcing her to hold her stature uneven - her eyes were weary from unrest and yet, she wore a smile or tried to at least. Above all else, even her own remorse and misery, she was happy to see her friend alive, her wounds no longer bleeding over the ground.

"I'm sorry."

But it was all she could muster as she stood there, looking more pitiful than she ever had in her life. Oh, if they could see her now - so weak.

M A L I N A
[ six - dark angel of diveen ]


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