It is almost like deja vu and yet this time the tables are turned. Almost, really. I suppose I am still in dire straits like our initial meeting, only for more nefarious reasons and poor choices. It is funny, I think - or more ironic - that the very reason I was in this mess with Aranck was because I never could quite figure out how to take care of myself. It had been my life goal to have others do it for me in exchange for my time and while Exodus hadn't required that from me, he hadn't stuck around either. It had been hard to realize he wasn't coming back to help me as I had grown fond of him in a dangerous sort of way. His presence was light, undemanding, and pure in a way that could not even be compared to the relationships I had cultivated in life. My time with Carnifex had left me heart sore but also a bit weak of the mind, I think, desiring love in such a way that it led me to sick decisions.

Hence Aranck. I had known swiftly that, while he was handsome and quite a catch on the outside, we would never mesh in a way that could be considered affection. At first we were possessive of each other and then he had begun to stray, his power driving his tastes and leaving me scrabbling for purchase. I was, in effect, his whore. When I chastised him I was left with threats. Threats of losing my position as his Consort, losing what little power I held, and in the last week I had finally come to the conclusion that I was ready to give it up. To give all this up; he had begun to turn a little mad, or maybe I was becoming sane.

He had killed a pup from Taviora just as he had killed the alphess of Iromar. Even I wasn't foolish enough to think of it in terms of self-defense. Murder. I was growing increasingly worried he would turn his temper upon me. My body was a sleek thing, beautiful, but this second litter so soon after the last (not to mention a cold, sleepless winter), meant that I was beginning to get a little flabby, a little less sleek.

The figure in front of me reminded me of everything I had been. The weak, pathetic parts. And I think that, now, with everything I have, I am worse than what I was. There is expectation and a look of almost concealed eagerness in his expression as I breath his name. I'm Back. Those two words make my heart start and I feel a need, a desire, to walk to him across the creek but I can't move. I am reminded suddenly of my swollen sides and my exhausted disarray. It shames me as I see disappointment riddle his face. What can I say to him? I am mated but that I hope he will be gone by fall? That I plotted his revenge even after having followed his cruelty?

"Why?" I don't know why that is the first question that comes to my lips. My mind is scrambling for purchase, to try and rearrange the pattern of events with this new (and old) wolf in the picture. Then my ears fall back in chagrin. "I am sorry, I do not mean that badly," I add in my soft voice, so at odds with the sleek, grating sound I often used with Aranck. I wade a few steps through the water and pull myself up, swaying backwards slightly as my weight tries to drag me back in. Even his children curse me. "You startled me is all. It has been a long time. Where did you go?" That last question comes out in a sort of plaintive manner, somewhat accusing but also sad.

But why should I be? He never made any claims, never promised me anything, but I couldn't help but remember how hope had flared within me.