The rush of his heartbeat tells me that he had heard my words, so softly breathed against his fur, and I pressed my nose further into him. His scent enveloped me, consuming me entirely. When his muzzle came to rest upon my nape I relaxed into his touch. We stood there, wrapped up in one another’s embrace for many moments of silence. I would have gladly remained as we were until the moon set and the sun rose ten times over, but such could not be. Deeply I inhaled of him, flooding my nostrils with his scent before I stood back and looked upon him once more. Unable to completely forgo our contact I reached forward once more and brushed my muzzle against his, before motioning for him to join me as I moved past him and back towards the den where the nightmare had begun.

He was only a few strides behind me as I came to lie down upon the veranda of the den. My ears flicked backwards at his hesitation, but before it could even really be noted he was moving to join me. There is no uncertainty then, when he lowered his body beside mine and our fur intertwined in a way most familiar to me. A single paw was placed upon his, an act made to reassure him that I was still here, that I wasn’t going anywhere, that my ears and eyes were wide open to whatever reality he would share with me. It was a softly spoken question that I asked, words phrased in a way that I hoped would gently open the door to whatever had brought the events of this night on. But as the moonlight shone down upon us, I knew there was nothing gentle about what he was about to tell me. How could there be?

No reaction was given to the almost snarl that threatened to emerge from his throat. I only remained as I was, focused on his face. Orange eyes lifted to mine as he confirmed that this ghost that haunted him had once been a real, living, breathing demon. I felt my heart rush into my throat at the next statement – he’d killed this wolf, this nameless wolf, for taking her. Who was this Orra, so important to Jericho? I wanted to ask, but I bit back my questions and remained as I was, my paw steadfast upon his as he continued. He had killed this wolf as vengeance for the life of this shewolf he spoke so reverently of, and for the life of a pup. His pup? The questions clawed at the inside of my mind, but the look on Jericho’s face and the choked laughter that bubbled to the surface as he spoke reminded me that this was not easy for him. For whatever reason, he was confessing all his sins to me; things he had clearly kept bottled up inside for a long time. He trusted me with this, and I had to repay that trust by letting him finish.

He told Orra’s story, and the strain it put on his voice almost broke my resolve. I nearly leaned into him offered him the comfort of my touch. But I restrained, practically frozen in place, though I blinked and listened and focused solely upon him. The words expelled from his lips like so many projectiles, with the weight of a hundred year of guilt. It ate him alive, I could see that now, the survivor’s guilt that had burrowed itself deep in his heart. For a moment silence stretched between us, but mahogany eyes were unwavering, for I knew this was not the end of the tale. It was then he acknowledged the monster he became, how he mutilated the wolf who had took her from him. How it had transformed him into the very thing Orra had tried to shield him from.

I remembered him having told me of a sister once before, when he had showed up on Spirane’s borders bloodied. I deserved this, it was repayment to someone I had wronged, he had told me. What had made little sense then proved to be perfectly logical now. And when the synapses in my brain finally realized the truth of who Orra was, perhaps not until he actually spoke the words, realization came down in a rush upon me. This was a pain I understood, one I knew. Nothing I had experienced could come close in comparison to the life Jericho had led, what he had been exposed to and transformed into. But I knew how the pain of losing a mother to the jaws of another could twist your heart so that you did not recognize the way it thrummed in your chest. On such an exponential level as the culture had been raised within, it no longer shocked me that he’d become this monster he spoke of. The one I had seen the faintest traces of in his snarls tonight.

The shattered breath that leaked through his lips signaled the end of his words. And I didn’t want to hear another. Now was not a time for more words, for he had poured forth everything in his burdened soul to me. For a moment our eyes merely lingered, mahogany locked upon orange. There was no judgment in my gaze, only a compassion that knew no bounds. Yes, he had committed vicious crimes, but did that change who he was now? The fact that he had realized what he had become and done everything in his power to remove himself from the situation, to come here and try to mend bridges long since burned, and to start a new life; it all meant something to me. I knew, in my core, that this was a wolf I could trust, now more than ever before.

Finally I broke our gaze, moving to him. I shifted my bodice slightly, laying my head over the nape of his neck much the same as he had with me before. But I tucked my muzzle down and around towards his neck and gently pulled him towards me. My legs were slightly longer than his, which allowed me to physically curl myself around him. I took him into my embrace and held him there. I wanted him to know that he was free from judgment here, that I cared about him and that he didn’t have to say another word. There were no other questions I would burden him with, not tonight. Maybe some other night I would tell him of my own history, how I had come to sit as queen upon the mountain – but not tonight.