It leaves me trembling, leaves me empty. The words don't seem to come but they do. They form between us in the quiet with her figure turned away from mine, her body still as if she has been frozen. Look at me, I beg inside, my eyes watering and my figure trembling. LOOK AT ME, I scream inside. Does she blame me? The accusations curdle in my stomach even as I spit it out. I don't need to say what exactly happened. Not yet. It is enough of a blow to admit that they are gone. I know it is my fault. I had not paid enough attention to the agitation of the bison. The bison had charged and my dad had done what he was born to do; protect me. Then he had died and my mother had died because she was weak from the loss. I had heard what happened to the last King of Iromar. After his imprint died he broke down.

I had killed my parents.

I don't need to utter the words. No one needs to know the darkness in my heart, the shadow that curls in my bones and settles in deep with my soul. That was my burden to bear and I would keep it mine. The world seems gray around me to match the fur of my aunt, to match the mood of my soul, and I stare at her hide in silent observation between tears. I can see the way her face scrunches to know that my words have wounded her. Slowly I sit, my tail curling tight around me. I won't go to her because I am fearful she will spurn me - I know I deserve it. I am a detestable daughter.

She turns then and she comes to me swiftly. I brace beneath her approach, sinking my head into my shoulders but she only comes to embrace me, pressing me into her with strength. Swiftly I sink into the comfort, tears against her fur, trying to convince my mind that since Vesper was here that Praetor was still here in spirit. It didn't work, it didn't fool my heart. So I wept into her and then came to gasping breathes, my body left empty of all as finally we both become aware that time still passes. It won't stop, not for my dad, not for my mom, and certainly not for us.

"What happens now?" I am a little girl then with the only family I have left, unsure. Part of me seeks retaliation but what will that serve? It might warm me to think of that elusive wolf dead, the wolf I have no face for yet, but what of the bison? Did I wish a genocide on their species? It was nature. I hated it.