His own distress was challenging to pick apart from her’s. Every passing day it seemed as though her had to dissect themselves apart. Every passing day he wished even more he did not have to. He wanted nothing more than to enter within her and fight back the demons of her thoughts. To protect her from the very things that were driving her to madness. Still, he kept his distance from her, for both their sakes.

Vasily’s conflicting emotions towards him were so plain he could see them through the shadows. Respectfully, he chose not to complicate it further, choosing only to heed fate’s call when he knew she needed him. During those times it all seemed too much. His choice did not erase the feeling, though. He could not deny fate all the time. Whether she knew or not, there were days he lingered along the borders of Iromar, learning its scents as well as those of Diveen and the freelands. He took the opportunities to learn more about the dark world around him, and to check on the last remaining sight he could see.

This outting was an accident. Myrhh stepped through the snow, trying to train himself in this season as well, orient himself to the world constantly, for it was forever changing. His mind was preoccupied, a skill he had started to collect with his growing familiarity of Moladion. Thoughts of his sister and her role in the pack and world plagued him. She was different than the rest of them. Try as he might, he could not pinpoint her motivation. It would take time for the truth to come unveiled. Time was something he was afraid they did not have.

A harsh voice he heard in his dreams cut through the air. The shout of a name. For a moment of panic, Myrhh thought there was trouble. Running ahead, he stumbled into the clearing the two sister occupied. Vasily? Are you okay? Face turned from side to side, as if he were looking around. In actuality, his nose was working furiously to try to pick up anything he could and add it to the shadows of his sight. There was a strange small blob he could not recognize beside the one he could nearly see clearly. Nothing else seemed to scream danger to him, but his heart still raced uncertainly. Vasily? He asked again, voice quivering uncertainly. Hackles were raised, as if he could fight off anything that threatened them. All he needed was for her to paint a picture for him.