He knew. He knew she was still here, the woman of the hour. The woman of the last hour. The one that had been here before him, the one that still seemed to haunt the Dunes. Frey knew she was out there. It was a question of speaking with her, it was a question of what would happen when they were face to face.

Seemed like that moment would be sooner than expected. Cresting a hill, looking down over the Oasis. His ears pitched forward, then back. Frey could let her haunt, could let her stew in her discontent. Hell, that was his plan so far. Maybe she’d eventually leave, maybe she’d eventually come out of hiding. Hiding. Here she was, and Frey hadn’t planned what he’d say.

Fuck it. Head high, steps elegant, thick frame out of place in the desert, he simply strode down to the water’s edge. “You decided to come out.” Frey stood out of striking range, tail flickering at his haunches. He lowered his dark lips to the water, drinking for a long moment before finally lifting his head to look at her. Study her. Unsure what to think, unsure what she’d do.