I was so lonely.

It was all I have felt in the last few seasons, that aching loneliness. Before I had felt the anger, the complete burn of a caged phoenix within me, ready to shed my own skin to find some sort of relief. Rebirth. The coals had become cold though, the fire a mere ember, and in it’s place, a cold had stolen in. I missed them. My family, my mate, my children, my life.

They said time heals all wounds. I could barely remember what my mother looked like at times. The way my father had laughed and cajoled me. I felt a sense of betrayal at my mind that I couldn’t recall the complete details of how he had saved me. In truth, I should feel relieved that I didn’t picture his caved in body anymore as a starring role in my nightmares. Honestly, I just felt sad. Sad to lose memories. Sad that I was foolish, selfish enough to lose time with my own family.

I had let the darkness, the jealousy, the bitterness destroy me. In the end, I had been my own destruction.

Wasn’t that a damn story to tell? Hey Mom, Dad, I know you guys fought for everything but I just walked away. I left them all there, alone, and gave up.

What a coward I was. What a fool. I knew that. I feared returning because I feared the reception I would get. The reception I deserved was not what I wanted and I had grown enough to realize what would happen. I hadn’t realized for a few weeks that my path had begun to head southward once more. When I did realize it, I had spent an entire day standing in one spot, staring at the southern sky and stars. Debating if I had earned the right to come back.

In the end, here I was.

What would I do if I saw Halcyon with another female? I would be happy for him, I told myself, but inside I shriveled and felt a spark of that flame. It is chance or fate that leads my path across his own in the woodlands. I had only been back to Molodian for less than a day. The hours had started in my head the moment I crossed that invisible threshold I dubbed the tundra rock. It was cold here but not as bad as in the north. Amazing how a hundred miles could change the weather so much.

The bitter wind that carved past him took his scent and thrust it straight back to me, a mile away. Even with the trees, even with the blockages, fate intervened. I paused, my breath coming in a staccato rhythm, heart hammering, dread and hope and tears pricking in me.

I had said I would calmly go to him. I would take my punishment, reap what I had sowed.

I didn’t do that. I bolted. Bolted right towards him, eating the distance up without a care, barely sucking in lungful’s of air to correct my path whenever I veered for a tree and lost his scent. He probably thought a herd of deer were coming straight towards him as my large, loping body slammed across the earth. When I see him I skid to a halt, a few feet in front of him, having cut across. I pant heavily, my eyes pinned on him. He is alone. That is… good?

I don’t say anything. Not yet, probably because I can’t breath enough to speak, but also because I want to see his face. To stare at him, to see if he will once again accept me.