She was carrying a heavy heart, and so the journey was taking longer than anyone could have expected. The Caprica who loped ever nearer to her recent acquaintance was not the same Caprica who had originally met him in the maple forest. Now, she believed, she was a girl capable of magic - and black magic, at that, not benign, as she'd originally thought. She was so lost in her shame, that she'd forgotten all the joy and heady excitement of those first few weeks carrying her secret charm, and forgotten the reason she'd begun to think it had worked. But it was also a stronger Caprica, with a thread of steel through her heart that could not decay, even faced with the prospect of accepting a deeply shadowed subconscious mind: a malicious devil within, that she'd never even suspected to exist before. Still, she was stronger than the devil. The love she'd been shown from her family provided her with strength, because they cared for her and always would - so long as she did not become truly evil, and she would never allow that. They would always be there, and she would retain the will to fight, because of them. In some ways, it was good, she told herself, that it had come to this. At least now she knew the challenge she faced, and the pitfalls to be avoided. She would frame her incantations far more clearly in the future, and overturn every shadowy stone in her soul until there were no contaminating secrets left unexamined.
Perhaps she wasn't heading in the straightest of lines for home, but she didn't much mind. The tunnels echoed still with guilt, and it would take some steeling of her nerves to re-enter the world she felt she'd robbed as truly as if she'd been a thief in the night. She would go back, of course. What good would it do them to lose her as well? And she needed Anathema, needed her loved ones. For now, the wilderness of an unknown place was a better place to collect her thoughts. After a time, and veering towards the South and the scent of the ocean, she thought she scented packlands and moved nearer, lifting her proud Roman-throwback muzzle to collect the impression: it was indeed, and a place she thought she could recall the name of, too. As she trotted closer, wondering if she dared call for the one she knew to live therein - but of course, he was not meant for her, after all - Caprica suddenly crossed a trail, the marks vivid against a sea-mist dampened ground. Both her neat, small ears shot forwards: her pace and pulse quickened. She followed, paws unerringly following the fresh and outward-leading trail. Her nose down, she did not see the figure atop his boulder. She merely marvelled at the strengthening of the scent, to the point at which it seemed he could be right in front of her: and then when she found the wall of rock before her face, she lifted her eyes and found that indeed he was. She wagged her tail, but the gesture was quiet and lacking in the exuberance that it might have possessed. It was delightful to see him, but the other was not tinged with the sense of inevitability and destiny that surrounded him before. Now, she knew they were both adrift on the sea of fate and just about anything could happen. All she could do was place herself in hope's way, and see if it came to call. Maybe with the odd nudge, too, just for luck. Not that she was feeling lucky, these days. Perhaps she would have to make her own luck.