Funny that the one intruder that could penetrate the watchful wolf’s patrol was just a little pup, funnier still that the little pup was probably one of the things the man desired to find the most, but likely expected the least. Then again, she had come with her mother who was ever watchful too, and was sure to enter the borders where luperci scents were the faintest. And here they were.

The voice that the little girl suddenly heard behind her was different than what she expected, and her whole body tensed as she whipped her head around, wide-eyed, to stare at the strange, crouching… big… man. The family was cautious, but the girls had not earned their mother’s due paranoia. The man surprised her, was all, but she showed no other inkling of fright.

Her jaw hung slack for a second, and then her maw pulled back in a taut smile. “Moongsong!” She chirped happily. “My name is Juliet Moonsong!” In a moment of elation, she tipped her small head back and let out a howl. It was just a shadow of the song she would be able to sing as an adult, but already her wolf’s voice was pretty. It was as though she was illustrating the name for the man.

“Jules!” The voice came again, and this time it was much closer. Orin had slipped down the alley behind the stores and come up beside the bookstore, between the building she once knew to belong to her friend Mars, and her own former dwelling. A grey cloak was draped over her shoulders and fastened at the collar with a wooden clasp; on the toggle a shape was carved. Something dangled from Orin’s hand, a piece of jewelry with the same symbol. She hadn’t seen Shawchert yet. “I told you not to run off like that! What were you thinking? And you lost your runes…”

As she moved out of the shadowy protection of the building, Shawchert finally came into view and she halted. A hand flew out at her side as though she was signaling someone unseen to stop as well. Through the opening of the cloak the bits of the woman that were visible were all white; no traces of pink nor brown remained. The hood still covered her head, hiding whatever hairstyle the woman now sported.

“Hi, Shawchert…” It was a good time for the lump to form in her throat, because she wouldn’t have been able to say another word over the peals of happiness that screeched out from two locations. The cream colored girl screamed first, and then a small, silvery gray girl bounded out of the shadows from behind Orin’s cloak. Her children weren’t stupid, and Orin hadn’t kept them in the dark about who their father was. All it took was for her to say his name and the girls went nuts.

“Daaaaddyyyy!!!” They yelped and yipped in unison. Juliet reached him first, but soon both muzzles were nipping and licking kisses at every inch of their father’s fur.

Despite the melange of emotion that could reasonably wash through the woman's body in this moment, potentially bringing about a break down, the woman did nothing but smile for a long time as she watched the two small pups successfully tackle their gigantic father. For all intents and purposes, this was her girls' first time meeting their daddy, and Orin wasn't about to make it all about her. This was for them. All three of them.

It did help that the girls gave the two adults no time to react to their haphazard meeting before filling the air with bell-like giggles and squeals. Even a scrooge would find it difficult to be unhappy in the face of such uninhibited joy.

“Sorry, they're a little shy,” Orin joked when she thought she found a moment to speak over the girls. Ideally, they would not have come upon Shawchert by accident. She would have had time to speak to someone and properly inform him that they had arrived (although some part of her was a fan of this surprise meeting). Orin knew nothing about Shawchert relinquishing the Cercatori leadership, and felt guilty for not showing the Alpha the respect he was due. I may be the mother of his children, but that doesn't mean I can walk all over him. she reminded herself silently. After all, she had just disappeared for months with those children.

A sudden bolt of worry shocked her, and she scuttled over to the mass of writhing fur. “Juliet, I told you, you lost your runes.” She spoke sternly as she scruffed her daughter - although she did it with her hands, the action was harmless, and had she been in her wolf form she would have done the same thing with her teeth. The girl wriggled in her fingers, but tried to hold still in the face of the excitement while Orin slipped the necklace over her daughter's head and then let her go. As if she was spring loaded, Juliet was back into the mess of father and sister as soon as Orin released her.

Pacified, Orin moved away from the group and sat on the bottom step of the bookstore. Blood had once been spilled on this stoop. She was aware of where she was sitting, but still the overwhelming sadness could not dominate her in this moment. The cloaked woman rested her elbows on her knees and her chin in her hands and sat silently as she watched the reunion. Orin should have joined in, and before she would have, but now she was strangely mollified.

She waited a while for the noise to die down a bit, but if her daughters had anything, it was heart, and the girls seemed to be dauntless in their merrymaking, so finally Orin decided to just try to talk over them. “You should have gotten this moment sooner,” she spoke to Shawchert, but of course at the first sound of this adult conversation her daughters tuned right in. They shot looks of confusion and question to their mother, their father, and each other. But just as it seemed one would ask a question, Juliet became distracted with a motion of her father's hand, and the girls were childishly giddy again. “There is a lot still that they don't know. Or that they don't know they know, anyway. But I ran into... somebody... a few weeks ago and it was the reality check I needed. The girls deserve to know their father.” And then suddenly, as if to distract from the gravity of the conversation she was starting, she added, “How have you been, Shawchert?”

Some part of Orin hurt for not joining in the reunion. How great it would be to roll about in the shopping square of Thornbury with her friend and their children, as carefree as the days of old, but something kept her back. It was clear why she had changed, but a part of her knew that if Shawchert extended the invitation, she would join. There was a new awkwardness between them now as Orin’s guilt took hold and constructed an invisible barrier between her and Shawchert. Her eyes flicked away from the man and focused on the squirming pups.

‘I can't begin to say how good it is to see you and the girls both alive…’ Purely by accident, Shawchert summoned the thoughts looming in the backs of both their minds. But the worst part wasn’t the memories; those she had dealt with, and was prepared for. It was the sudden pang of sadness for Shawchert that struck her now. She had taken his children from him during a time he needed all of them the most. Orin had been alone, but Shawchert may have been even more lost than even she.

“Luckily, we stayed a few steps ahead of him. But not from every evil out there,” she shook her head softly, and her eyes glazed over for a moment as she worked to cast out the image of another shadowy devil-wolf. This wasn’t the time nor the place to tell Shawchert… if she ever would. “Our daughters are truly blessed, though. They were weak, and I thought for sure Titania’s fate was sealed. She was sick; she’s still a bit smaller than her sister and I think that’s why. But she’s as strong and healthy as an ox now.”

She smiled, and her eyes returned to Shawchert. She raised a hand to brush a wisp of choppy blond bangs from her face, tucked them back under the hood, and as she did so the sleeve slipped back from the cloak revealing the angry pink scar on her forearm. The fur was growing over it, and in time the skin would soften and the scar would be difficult to see, but for now it was a dominant marking on the woman’s body.

“I know he was killed,” she added. “We finally took shelter in Phoenix Valley. Tala found us the moment I was ready to give up. She gave us a safe place to live.” Her eyes flashed as though she was trying to guess his next thoughts. “But before you get angry at the Valley for not telling you I was there, let me add that they did not know who I was. I gave them a fake name and identity.”

Her eyes turned back to Juliet. This was why the girl did not call herself a Takekuro. Orin tried to preserve their sanity in the midst of losing her own, and had not wanted to confuse them with the name. They would learn and choose their own in time.

“I met the person who killed Ar… Argul.” Her voice was filled with false bravado, and she pretended to not notice that she had stumbled on the name. “I know he is gone. I saw the proof.”

So it was true, Sky hadn't told Shawchert she'd found Orin. From what she knew, the woman had searched for her since her disappearance, but only discovered her by happenstance shortly after Orin returned to reality and sought solace with her brother in Cour des Miracles. Why would she hold that back from Shawchert? Had her one-time rival actually respected her wishes to remain undiscovered? Perhaps she understood that Orin needed just a little more time, and would come back when she was ready. It was clear that day in the woods that Orin did not plan to keep Shawchert from his children forever.

But before she could question him and dig a little deeper, Shawchert sat up and the pups tumbled to the ground. She noticed them become preoccupied for a minute as they wrestled with one another until they remembered their prime target – their newly found father – and returned to trying to dominate his attention. What he had just said lingered in the air for a moment though, and she returned with, “But it wasn't just you.” The admission of guilt came out deadpan and lackluster, but brave. “I was the first to be fooled and insist that he be allowed to stay.”

She cut herself off. She had read this same scenario in her books a thousand times; they would fight over whose fault it is and neither feel any better over it. Both would just feel worse, berating themselves and taking on more blame for the other's guilt. She sighed and shook her head.

As quick as she could think that, though, Shawchert was before her. His arms were outstretched, open in a greeting she had not received from anyone other than her brother in months. Her golden eyes looked at the gesture, and then flicked up to his face. The weakest, genuine smile pulled her mouth tight as she stood up and opened her arms in reception. There was no hesitation here, even if she did not leap into his arms with the exuberance she may have once displayed.

For the first time in months they were near one another again, Orin barely making it up to the same place she always did on Shawchert's chest. Her arms hugged her old friend's waist; she was still so little in comparison to him. She hesitated this time, turning her head and resting it on his chest. She inhaled deeply, and suddenly his scent brought back so much. All the memories of the beautiful life they had been crafting in the pack's infancy.

After a moment she opened her eyes – and half wondered when she had closed them – and caught a flash of the band on Shawchert's wrist. “What's that?”

Her eyes were like molten honey as she inspected the wristband. Horrid understanding crawled through her, overcoming her quickly and impossibly slowly all at once. It was like ants were crawling through her veins – slow on small legs yet sped up by her blood. Then her heart sank, and she felt as though she were on fire.

No! She misunderstood. It couldn't be... that! That was sick! That would be perverse! Shawchert would never don a damnable thing like that. But surely as his words suggested, she traced the familiar shade of the 'leather' that was this construct, and it was almost like she could feel the truth.

“You bastard!” she screamed, hysteria dirtying her tone. It had come upon her so fast that she didn't even have time to think of the girls that were playing so close by. Her arms jerked in front of her, separating herself from Shawchert in one fluid movement. Flat palms slapped against his chest and she used the momentum of the thrust to vault backwards. She landed several feet behind where she had been, almost upon the top step of the stairway to the bookstore. The maneuver was foreign and strange on the once-clumsy girl, but it was executed with... if not perfection... a measure of practiced skill.

Orin landed and was poised to leap from the stairs, with intent to move past the deranged man and snatch her daughters, when his sight-line caught her eye. It had all happened so fast, and she glanced in the direction he was looking out of instinct. And that is when she realized what he was trying to tell her. So much for subtlety.

She was frozen on the steps, but stunned as she was she dropped her defensive pose and stood straight. There he was, as plain as day, a little pup – though bigger than when she had known him as a newborn – sitting amongst the shadows. There was a faint glow coming from the spirit even in the light of day. Could it be a trick of the eyes?

“I don't understand,” she whispered. There was a time not long ago when she would have been elated to think she was seeing a ghost. Now she was, and her faith faltered. “How are you doing that?”

Of course she had gained the interest of the girls by now. Both were relatively still and staring back and forth from their father to their mother. They were dumbfounded, unable to see what caused such a strange outburst. Ultimately, they decided it was nothing – just more boring adult talk – and tentatively began to play again.

When the child specter spoke, under no obvious command from Shawchert, her jaw dropped and her mouth formed an O. Belief was starting to trickle in. She wanted to say something, anything, but now Orin was at a loss for words.

“Demetrius, it's you?” Helpless, she turned to Shawchert for answers. “He's... that's him? He's been with you all this time?”

Hopeful and searching for answers, Orin descended the stairs and cautiously walked toward the spirit. (Luckily the girls had become quite preoccupied chasing and barking at an unfortunate bird.) She held a hand out, gingerly reaching out to touch the child.

It was probably for the best that the pup spoke his peace and disappeared before Orin's fingertips could brush up against them. For as fantastical as this sight was, the woman's composure was just an act, and she might have broken down in remembrance of her son's death. Instead, the pup spoke to her and disappeared – and somehow she knew he wasn't gone. For a moment her eyes welled up with tears that trickled in a small stream down her cheeks. She stared at the spot for a moment. She thought she should have said something, or should think of something to say now, but she couldn't. What do you tell the ghost of your dead infant? The power of his presence hadn't disappeared with the apparition, though, and soon a feeling of peace overcame her. This moment was beyond words, and he was telling her that it was okay.

Slowly, she turned back to Shawchert as she dried her eyes with the back of her hand. Calm now, she began to speak and then stopped. What was she going to say? Something more about Demetrius. It would be okay. She did not understand why, but that could wait until later.

Something brushed up against her leg and she looked down to see Juliet walk out from under her cloak. When had the girl gotten under there? She smiled and breathed a snicker, and then looked back to Shawchert. “I... don't really have a plan. Something wasn't right for me in Phoenix Valley. When I joined them it was all lies on my behalf, and even if I had been able to reveal myself to them it still wouldn't have felt right. My friend Tala disappeared after a while, and so I left. For about the last month or so we've been staying with Niro. Vigilante granted me sanctuary in the Court for a little while. It still doesn't feel like home, though, and I've been reluctant to rejoin the pack.”

“I'm kind of just in limbo right now, I guess.” She rubbed the back of her head, above the hood. “I don't really know what to do with myself. But much like Demetrius did for you, the girls brought me back. They deserved more than the life of lies I was about to give them. They needed to know their father - before they grew into adults and had to come seek you out for themselves. Other than that, I don't have a plan.”

“Treetop terrace?” she echoed. What was that? The place had not been discovered until after Orin's disappearance. If it was anything like it sounded, it just might be the perfect place to shack up for a while. 'Treetops' were not exactly the kind of place you wanted to take pups, but Juliet and Titania for the most part were obedient girls. What appealed to Orin was the protection factor. Who but a few angry birds could take you by surprise in the trees?

Orin did have a rocky history with seagulls, but that was neither here nor there...

The woman glanced at the closest building – the bookstore she once lived in. Horrors had happened there that dampened the place's reputation. Did Shawchert assume she would not want to live there because of what had happened, or had someone taken her place? It didn't matter, she decided. That was territory best left uncharted until the time was right. Right now was time to think about what she knew; what was happening – that after everything, Shawchert was proposing a return to some sort of normalcy. He was inviting her back into her home – for the bookstore itself had not been her home, but all of Cercatori. She had come back because of her daughters, and would stay because of them, and more.

“Yes,” she said as she turned back to Shawchert, giving one firm nod. The girls ran over to them, standing between their parents and alternating stares between the two. “We'll stay.”

“But if that place is anything like it sounds,” she amended, holding up a warning digit. A grin split her muzzle as she glanced at the puppies. Two tails began whipping the air. “You better get to work making a couple harnesses.”

“What are you doing?” Orin barely had time to question before Shawchert let the howl sound, calling for Skye. Of course, as a co-leader of the pack, Skye should be in on the decision making, but she hardly thought the woman would need to be bothered for this. Orin had been a member before, and was the father of Shawchert's pups, of course Skye would agree to Shawchert's decision. Or perhaps he was talking about Sky. Maybe the woman had told him about discovering Orin in the woods near the Court, and perhaps they both had been eagerly awaiting her imminent return with the pups. Skye Collins arrived before she could puzzle it out.

An ear twitched beneath the heavy, hooded cloak that draped her frame, causing the slightest shift of the material. Orin turned to the woman as she approached and was a bit surprised to see that it was in fact the Collins woman Shawchert had called. It was strange how the months had changed her. Orin rarely had to look at her own reflection and see the differences in herself, Shawchert bore new scars and the hardship of pain in his eyes, but Skye was the most outwardly transformed. She had come a long way from the woman Orin met in the vegetable garden, the day she had tripped and crunched so many of the precious plants. She came towards them cautiously, and at first Orin did not know if the same paranoia that infected her now afflicted the Collins woman as well, or if it was just surprise that caused her to move this way.

Orin let Skye come near, and did not bolt in the other direction not dissipate into mist. Instead, she smiled warmly at her old friend, even if she did not run to her with hugs and kisses like she once would have. “Yes,” her smile shifted slightly, from happy greeting to slight awkwardness, “the one and only. Sorry I took off on you all...”

She glanced down for a moment, not sure what else to say, and by some miracle Orin was not forced to fidget in her guilt for very long, for the pups, who had been digging for vermin under the porch, finally noticed Skye and raced over to her in greeting. Many, hi's and hey's and who’s that's were barked as they sniffed at the woman's legs and nipped for her fingers. There was something extra special about the woman that excited the girls any more. Another scent in her fur... one the girls were happy to identify. Playmates!