It was a beautiful day, but Tayui could not see it. Her own emotional turmoil coupled with the nature of the lands made it impossible to see the skies. Even if she cast her gaze skywards, she knew it would not register. Right now, nothing seemed like it was registering properly. Moreover, the area known to luperci as Ethereal Eclipse was a densely forested region, where not a ray of sunlight could penetrate. As she rested near a particularly old tree, she contemplated the meaning of this: there were infrequent clearings where the sun shone, but elsewhere, it was quiet and dark. The trees had grown tall and were almost barren near the forest base due to the lack of sunshine. It was strange but comforting. She liked that she had found a forest so riddled with contradictions; it reflected her mood well.

“Hello,” she shouted impulsively, flicking her ears forward to listen for her voice. “Echo, echo,” she added as an afterthought and she studied the way her voice moved through the trees. She then began to laugh, surprised she could even think such things. Her daughter was dead and all she could do was study the sound of her own voice. She was so self-absorbed.

Her laughter continued, growing quieter until it finally began to sound more like sobs than anything. Her daughter was dead and she was in an empty forest. Suddenly, the reality of her situation became clearer and she felt very, very alone.

When Tayui had recognized her loneliness, she had begun to weep. It had been more because she recognized that loneliness was a luxury. When you knew your time alone would end and that soon, you would see someone else, it was a luxury. But when you did not know how long the solitude would last, then it became a curse. Now she realized that all the times she had spent cooped up in her den were luxuries she could no longer afford. Without the promise of a family waiting for her, her isolation was no longer a breath of fresh air, but a constricting fog that burned her insides.

Ironically, while Tayui had been pondering the meaning of loneliness and crying over her abandonment, another canine managed to hear her. Tayui had been so lost in her own thoughts that she had not heard the other female approach; when the woman called her name, Tayui flinched and whipped her head around to see who had found her.

She frowned, trying to place the scent and the appearance, but found no home for either one. This was someone new: a stranger or passerby. Forgetting about her sobs, Tayui wondered how the other female had found her. The arctic luperci considered replying with a common yes, fine, but could not bring herself to do it. She could not lie anymore. Not now, not again.

“No, not really,” she replied at last. While Tayui would have had good reason to lie to this stranger, she did not have the heart. She wanted a connection or some semblance of reassurance from someone. She needed someone, anyone, to talk to.

Her first instinct to every move the other woman made was to flinch. Her primary reaction to each word spoken was to hesitate, move away, and flee. She had not been like this before – before Noir’s death, she had been friendly and amicable. Tayui had liked to think of herself as particularly laid-back, worrying only when necessary, which was usually over her children. Now, the offer of words, which she so desperately desired, left her feeling awkward and uncomfortable. This was the same feeling that had hounded her all throughout her journey from Quebec to the lands of Bleeding Souls. And now, the spectre had returned, taunting her and reminding her of all that she once had. Tayui felt horribly lost – all of these feelings were confusing and disturbing. While she had wandered through the forest, she had longed for contact; some sort of connection that would verify her existence and make her feel real again. Now that she had it, the first thing she considered was how quickly she could flee.

She hated these feelings. She hated how the other woman’s soft words only made her heart ache more for the sing-song melodies her daughter would always hum. While Tayui did not understand the other woman’s words, she knew the intention. She appreciated the effort, but loathed the effect.

Tayui tried to avoid the other woman’s gaze, turning her head to one side. She could see that the doggish luperci was trying to get a better look at her, but Tayui did not want to be seen. She disliked the thought of anyone associating her pain with who she was. She wanted to keep this a secret until one day she could keep it no more and it would burst forth with the fury of torrential rains.

While Tayui understood what the other woman, Alaine, was trying to do, she still thought it would be useless. But she did not know how to say no, so instead, she offered a less concrete answer.

“Perhaps,” came her reply, softer than the last. “I don’t know what to do,” she added honestly. She did not know how to convey any of what she was feeling to Alaine or whether she even should.

Softly and gently, Tayui’s mind began to piece itself together. It was a wonder she was still able to form complete sentences after being given such horrible news. She could only be glad that she had not seen the dead body; she doubted she would have been able to recover after that. And where children could block out memories and hide away their pains, she knew she would have to live this for the rest of her life. She could not deny herself this memory or this knowledge: it was true that ignorance was bliss. While her other daughter was still missing, at least she had that sliver of hope that she might return: her beautiful daughter with her sea foam eyes.

As Tayui tried to push aside her guilt, she slowly re-entered the present world. The collie woman was still there with her clawed hand hanging awkwardly by her side. Tayui hoped the other luperci had not injured herself – it was at a rather odd angle. For a moment, these musings distracted her mind long enough for her to clearly hear the other woman’s reply, and then, her question.

Tayui closed her eyes and exhaled softly, then slowly began to shake her head. She did not shake it in reply as a no, but rather, to indicate that she had no answer. Her shoulders rose and fell, shrugging slowly in unison. Neither of them knew what to do: they were just old widows, lost in the forest.

“I don’t want to burden you,” she replied, opening her eyes. As soon as she saw the other woman’s gaze, she dropped her eyes to the ground, following the movement of the other woman’s hands. Tayui watched in silent contemplation before blurting: “he killed my daughter.” There. There was no going back. “I didn’t love him. But he was her father and he killed her.” It was more a statement than an admission, as if Tayui thought she had nothing to be sorry for. She had so much to be sorry for that she did not know where to begin.

Tayui watched as the other woman kneaded her legs, wishing she did not have to spread these sorrows. She wished so many things could be true and right again, but recognized that there was no way to make someone return from death. While she hoped Noir could some day come back to her as a ghost, just so Tayui could make sure she knew she loved her, no matter who her father was, she did not want to hold out for such a miracle. Shaeniire had returned to her, and so had Fly at one point. But Ember – the one whom Ember Phoenix was named after – had not returned, and it had taken two years before Agani found her in the flesh. No matter how many ghosts Tayui had seen, her experience would in no way make Noir more likely to return to her.

Tayui whipped her head up in surprise when the other woman exhaled and focused her gaze back on the wolfdog’s features. Her heart raced for a split second, but now that she realized the noise was not a threat, she could feel herself calming down a little. Tayui tried to look away when the other woman spoke, but found herself drawn in to the other’s sea foam green eyes. Tayui could not help but think how similar Alaine’s eyes were to Ocèane’s: pale, but so very full of life. Tayui clung to the possibility of life, holding the shade of green so sharply in her mind that she worried she might give herself a headache.

It was a small price to pay for hope.

Tayui flinched when Alaine stepped forward, and then relaxed slightly. She reached out with her hand, hesitating for a moment, before taking a step closer as well. She moved to place her hand on Alaine’s shoulder, frowning somewhat in concentration. Simple physical contact had never been this difficult before.

“Yes,” she agreed. “But, thank you. For…” Tayui trailed off, unsure of what Alaine had done so far. She could not find the words to express herself. But suddenly, inspiration: “helping. Croimáthair,” she added, attempting the word, stumbling over it, and letting her slight Quebecois accent to colour it differently.

Tayui felt a silence wash over her as Alaine received her words. She felt awkward when the other woman’s face lit up after she attempted the foreign word and uncomfortable when she realized how important it might have been to the other canine. She had wanted to comfort the other woman with her words, but it seemed as though Alaine wanted to exactly the same thing for Tayui. She did not know what to do with this kindness – should she reciprocate it somehow, or play along? It had taken her some time to recognize the other woman’s intentions, having initially taken it at face value. But now that she saw Alaine’s desire to help her, it made her feel like she had something to live up to, even if the collie would have never intended that.

She glanced down to see Alaine place her hand on her shoulder. For a moment, it calmed her knowing that there was someone else out there who was just as real and physical as she was. However, the moment passed and this sense of peace was replaced with a shallow feeling of unease. Again, her mind would race to the same moment with Aurèle and the same revelations. These memories always left her feeling hollow and cold, but somehow, Alaine’s touch warmed her just enough to bring her back to the present.

At the woman’s words, Tayui nodded her head in agreement. A walk sounded wonderful and Tayui desperately needed to stretch her legs. Tayui received Alaine's second suggestion readily with another nod. She began to move with the other woman as they departed from their meeting place and delved deeper into the woods. Yes, it would be good for her if she could remember the good moments of her daughter and the time they had spent together.

“She was so innocent,” Tayui replied, before taking a moment to pause and collect herself. Then, she continued: “which made her death that much harder to bear. She was young. Not that my other children weren’t as well, but she would always be young. She was kind. And strong – she protected my one son,” she continued with a small chuckle. “Claudius. She protected Claudius. He was naive where Noir was just innocent. They were a pair, the two of them.”

The two fell into a quiet, calm pace, moving through the forest with ease. Now that she was seven years old, the motions of walking were so familiar that she could do it without thinking when at one point, it had been such a struggle. Now, her Optime form brought her some comfort as it allowed others to convey thoughts with actions: with the touch of a hand or a gentle gesture. It all warmed her heart.

Tayui lifted her head up in surprise when Alaine crafted words with such carefulness and precision. For a moment, it reminded Tayui of when she had been the one to comfort and bring forth metaphors of such vivid hope, one could easily be fooled into thinking they were real, physical things. She nodded quietly when Alaine added, I would have liked to meet her, or for her to meet my son. It would have been very pleasant for her family and Alaine's to somehow unite and grow together. Tayui regretted that she had not met this woman sooner, for her empathy toward a stranger was astounding.

It seemed as though Alaine was intent on maintaining the conversation, while Tayui was happy to let her do all the talking. Her voice was soothing. But she could still contribute, and she did not mind talking about her other children.

“Yes, three,” replied with a surge of strength. She still had so much to live for. “Two boys and a girl -- one of them, Claudius, is still in the pack, while the other two are off, somewhere,” she added with a touch of sadness. “They're all wonderful and... growing,” she finished with almost a sense of wonder. It was strange to think some of her children would continue to grow when Noir would be eternally preserved at her one age.

Tayui was jolted out of her reverie when Alaine spoke again. Although she had only drifted off for a moment, it did not make the change in pace any less surprising. When Tayui found a rut to dig herself into, she stayed there and took up residence quite quickly. When she had first arrived in Bleeding Souls, she had dug so many holes and buried herself so deep within her own self-pity that it had taken some time and the assistance from many kind friends to help her re-emerge from the dark and dirt. It seemed as though Alaine would be another one of those friends who would prevent her from sinking into a lacuna of anger and solitude. She was thankful for this, and tried to reflect this by paying sharp attention.

She nodded encouragingly as Alaine described her son. She smiled softly when Alaine mentioned he was now a big boy, sort of like what Claudius was. Big in body, but so very fragile in the mind – he was so delicate, perhaps from her coddling. Perhaps not, but she knew a small word could send him sobbing since his feelings were hurt easily, the poor boy. Just like Alaine’s son, too, it seemed. As Alaine continued speaking, Tayui realized how her thoughts coincided with Alaine’s words. She chuckled, wondering if it would be appropriate to mention Claudius now.

Her smile disappeared when Alain mentioned a fight. Tayui nodded solemnly, now thinking of Attila, with whom she had spoken many times about his behaviour. He was a good kid, just bored of the status quo and the constancy of tribe life. She didn’t really blame him, either – it was just how he was. And again, Alaine spoke of similar things: her son wanted adventure, like Attila had. And like Tayui, Alaine knew where her home was, but could not help but wonder if home was with your family, not your den.

“He sounds like my sons – Claudius is so shy and Attila is so vivacious. It’s always a struggle to figure out where my duty lies. In the end, it’s with your family, or just those you love. What’s your son’s name? Maybe I’ll see him one day.” She wanted to give Alaine the same kind of hope she had given Tayui – it was a fair, just trade.

Tayui nodded in response when Alaine spoke, now feeling like she could help the other woman. Even though her own emotions were so close to the surface and so easily reachable, Tayui felt for a moment that she could set them aside and listen now. Well, she could try – simply reminding herself of what she was putting on hold was enough to make her heart clench: a cold, icy grip that caused her to visibly shiver. Everything was so close and real, but she had to recognize that the real world – one which involved a very kind stranger – was also just as real and just as relevant.

And even as she said it, Tayui also realized that there were many she loved in these lands. Some, she had stronger emotions for, like her family. But there were others, like Dawali and Ember, whom she felt a connection to. Perhaps she would be able to rekindle these connections soon. She had not seen either of the fellow AniWayans in some time, and she had locked herself away, both physically and emotionally, since Noir’s death.

Tayui felt her heart skip again as she thought the words. It hurt, but as she looked back to Alaine, she could see that she had some support. If a stranger could ease her worries, why couldn’t her friends, too? Why was she so hesitant to speak to them?

She knew the answer to that: it was because of who she was becoming and the consequences of her grief. Anger and revenge were common themes for her now, and she did not want either of them to know what she was becoming.

She hoped Alaine would never have to know this, either. Tayui nodded as Alaine continued and committed her son’s name to memory: Caillen. Tayui tried to return the woman’s smile, hesitating for a moment before committing. She needed to smile more often.

Tayui flinched when Alaine grasped her elbow, but paused and took a deep breath: it was alright. When Alaine’s hand felll away, she revived the smile, hoping to let Alaine know it was alright.

“I will, if I see him. What is the golden dragon?” Curiosity, of course, but of the words Alaine had spoken, this seemed the most intriguing.

Tayui realized only after she spoke that perhaps she had gone too far. Perhaps it was too much, and perhaps she was not meant to know what the phrase meant. But if she was to be delivering coded messages, she would prefer to know what she was telling others. She knew it might be a little overly suspicious, but at the same time, she had a right to know if this information was good or not, didn’t she? She did not want to be the unfortunate bringer of bad news, especially to an estranged son. At that thought, she felt her heart twinge a little, bringing her memories of her other son. She took a hold of the feeling and nursed it as she walked with Alaine, letting the feeling blossom. She shivered as she re-remembered why it hurt so much to be without her other son. It hurt to have her family torn apart and she could understand so well why Alaine wanted to see her son again, too.

Tayui nodded in response when Alaine spoke, glad to know that the term was a good one. She suspected it was descriptive – of some sort of idea that was golden in colour. The sun, a wolf, a fox – it could be anything really and there was no point trying to muddle her way through this mystery.

“I suppose the same to you. If you see Attila, just tell him I love him,” she replied with a quiet smile. “And that no matter where he goes or what he does, I always will.” She hesitated, and then added: “but it’s so much easier to love when someone lives.” More social commentary.

As their pace slowed, Tayui reached out to catch Alaine’s hand and hold it in her own. She offered the wolfdog a small smile, hoping that somehow this would make things more pleasant for the both of them. Knowing that there was someone else out there who could practically relate helped so much. Just knowing helped.