Siobhan had no words. Not for her fears, of which there were many. Not for the moment of intimacy she'd shared with Bjorn, long after she'd thought such possibilities had ended. Not for the way she saw her Bera Konung watching Tigerlily the same way that he used to look at her. Siobhan had no words for the heartbreak that lived in her chest with every step, nor for the cloud of grief that hung over her like a cloud.

She walked numbly up the beach, side to side with Tigerlily, and watched as Ironclad took his family and left. She should have felt relief that Bjorn would be saved from battle, and would have no wounds to tend after, but she felt nothing. Only a numbness that clawed at her from the inside out, stealing her voice and leaving her mute. Memories lingered here behind every rock and every tree. She could not forget the long months spent alone while Bjorn was gone, pregnant with twins and tormented by Nyimara at every turn. She could not forget the long winter she'd spent so, so cold that she'd lost the tips of her ears to frostbite. She could not forget the betrayal of knowing that Nyimara could only hold her because of Bjorns claim on the land, and yet knowing that he did not stop her.

She could forget none of this… and yet, even these small tragedies were preferable to spending one more moment alone in the Ridge's jungles. Waiting to see if the sound in the bushes was Cullen come to finish her off, or Tyr to steal her children, or Aranck back from the dead. She could not bear another single moment of it.

And so she had come, meek and mild as a lamb. The third wheel to the glorious love spell that Bjorn and Tigerlily wove together. One who tried so very hard to be happy for them both. One who desperately wanted them to have the happy ending that seemed always to dart past her own grasp. Her hope had always been for Bjorn to move on past her, and to find his happiness in hearts that did accuse and adore him in the same breath. Her love wasn't a fair love. It was demanding as often as it was kind, and she would not subject him to it any longer.

Not after what she'd already asked of him.

The red waif trailed listlessly through the Inlet, taking advantage of a rare warm day in early winter to reacquaint herself with the landscape. She hated to be away from them, to be alone at all really, but she also hated intruding. Tigerlily deserved time with him far more than Siobhan did. And so she walked along the well-trodden path toward freshwater, her mind a million miles away.