It would seem that the season of storms was upon us. As I moved down the slopes of my home the sky turned dark, though it was the middle of day, and I knew what was to come. For a moment I was reminded of the day at the end of summer that I’d spent down by Aplos River, when the skies had opened and poured down upon Jericho and me. The recollection sent a tingle down my spine, or maybe it was the brewing storm’s building electricity. Not for the first time, I was given to consider that maybe – just maybe – I wasn’t doomed to be alone; the possibility that someone else might be out there for me. But a healing heart is fickle and tender, and I was a far cry from having moved on from the memory of my painted warrior. Some tiny piece of my heart still clung to him, wondered if he might return home.

The changing colors of autumn on the mountain distracted me from such musings as I turned my eyes to the foliage around me. I jogged at an easy pace, making my way down towards the borders in search of my brother. It was my intention to discuss the training of his pupils with him, as well as how the spar with Ailith had gone in his opinion. Of course I had observed the duel from afar, but it was important to me to know if Sleekwing thought she was up to the task of serving as my Mercenary. Besides, I enjoyed spending time with him, walking the periphery together and talking. Sometimes he would tell me stories from his puphood about our parents or Boneclaw and Thunderbone.

As I reached the foothills a rumbling from the sky reminded me of the coming storm, and then the rain was upon me. It did not faze me, in fact I loved the rejuvenating feeling of the rain and how it affected the intensity of the scents around me. My nostrils flared, taking it all in, when suddenly I was hit by a scent that could not possibly be mistaken as anything other than what it was. My nonchalant attitude evaporated completely and my tail lifted stiffly behind me, ears pushing forward and eyes flashing to my left. Even my hackles bristled against the torrent of rain. Suddenly I was running.

Lightning cracked across the darkened sky, and the power of the storm fueled me. I galloped towards the scent, so magnified by the rain. Mud kicked up behind me as I ran. But I never put a paw out of place. Though part of me felt frantic, another part felt determined and full of grace. Without hesitation I moved across my borders, tracking the scent and never faltering. He hadn’t gone far, and he wasn’t moving fast. I was upon him before I could realize it, and I passed his multi-toned form before putting on the brakes and swinging my bodice around to stand directly in his path. Eyes of warm mahogany flitted over him, registering that it really, truly was him. Flesh and blood and bone. Leonidas.

Silence grasped my tongue, stealing all the words I had for him. But the sky seemed to feel the roiling of emotions within me, and crashed in cacophony. He was back, but he was leaving? Without so much as letting me know he was alive? Though his eyes showed the remorse and pain he felt, I wondered if he was even capable of moral compunction at all. Who was he to come here, to cross into the lands we had once both called home, and then just retreat? “Why?” It was the only word I could muster, the syllable punctuated with the innumerable emotions I was feeling. Pain, loss, joy, anger, rage, confusion – the list was never ending. All I wanted from him was an answer, to own up to what he had done and just explain it to me. Make me understand. Because I couldn’t go through this anymore. I was a Queen, and though my heart ached for him, I just wasn’t sure if Leonidas was the thing Kings are made of.