Blurred with movement streaks, Grimoire’s nose more than her vision identified Eden. Her eyes rolled as she tried to steady the perception and keep her lethargy from consuming her consciousness. Her lagging vision traced the Fortitude’s after image to the point of his hesitation in the fragmented undergrowth. Who was he hiding from? Her vision briefly focused his grayscale fur, but wavered as he moved toward her. An odd expression crossed over his eyes; she’d not seen it’s likes since Nakki, her departed mother, had explained the truth of the Demon Code - something she’d deeply cared for. Cared for?

Her paws pressed flat in the sandy loam and then flexed backwards. Her slow, dying heart gave Grimoire and extra couple of beats. The fur of Eden’s muzzle finally stilled into relief and she tilted her nose towards his chin. She felt understanding was on the horizon. The solution of her body’s instinctual need to find him was sharpening. Grimoire’s desperation stilled and her voice found some normality in its pitch when she replied,

”I am.”

Lured by the gentle pull of his nearness and eyes, Grimoire followed their suggestion. Her claws touched the soil past the invisible barrier that marked Glorall. She tucked her head near Eden’s chest, careful not to touch him, but quietly, temporarily, tethering her psyche to the sound of his breath. From his exhale, she stole cognition through an inhale, and the series of events that recently befell her revealed the question she needed an answer to; one she’d never been taught by Nakki, who assumed enemies were simply, always there.

”What do you do when you run out of enemies?”

Her pearlescent eyes shifted from the ground to the empty woods around them. Without others to chase her, hunt her, test her, her existence couldn’t be confirmed; she’d be without the divine Demon testament of her worthiness to live. Grimoire, as she was, would never survive in such a place.