Guilt still clenched in Zharko’s chest as he paced the trails of Iromar. There was no sign of his sister in the depths of the mud. She truly seemed to have had left the land, and him, behind. His red eyes blinked slowly in silent despair. He mourned the loss of Zafira and cursed his failure of protecting her. Walking the trail in his revery he froze at a different familiar scent. As he reached into the depths of his soul he felt… nothing.

The bond between him and Wren had been severed. He knew that the last time he had seen her. That feeling of being whole had left him. Even fate had deemed him unfit to share the soul of an innocent. Under the eyes of Blackthorne he had still kept watch over Wren, making sure no one would take her life. It was Zharko who made sure her captivity was as...pleasant...as possible. It was Zharko who in the end had abandoned her. Exhaling her scent, he laid down on the trail leading out of Iromar, his bloody eyes following the path she would have taken. Zharko thought about what had brought him to this moment, the sisters he had watched over under the command of Thorne and had returned home. He thought about his broken bond, and the pain he had caused Wren while she had been in captivity. All he had ever wanted was to keep her safe. His thoughts wandered to Avery. They had agreed he had come back to this pack with a slate as fresh and clean as his pelt. Eyes narrowed, knowing he would never be able to erase the scars that marred his face. Perhaps he could at least still take care of the one who had once held a piece of his soul. Taking a chance, he got to his feet and started to make his way down the path Wren had left for him to follow.

He followed her all the way to the dry crags and still further, following her scent and the sound of the running water. He stepped up to a ledge and paused. There, dozing on the banks of the waterbed was Wren. Something inside him twisted at the sight of her. Carefully, slowly, he approached. Just as he had the first time they had met, he lowered his already small body to the ground. Wren? his voice was soft, gentle, almost desperate. Wren… I’m sorry.