Yesterday had been so amazing that she just had to come back. No one wanted to end the day at the seaside carnival, but the family finally had to return home with tired pups in tow. On the way home the night before, each parent ended up lugging a tired pup in their arms, the children dozing in their protective hold as Shawchert and Orin walked back to the Treetop Terrace.

Something happened that day – something more than just laughing pups and playful adults. Even though it had been years since the carnival had last been powered, many of the ride’s wheels still turned and Orin and Shawchert could put the girls in the boats and push them in circles, sit in cars that lugged over rickety wooden hills, and could mount crackle-painted carousel horses and pretend to be knights. The girls, Shawchert, and Orin laughed like they were all pups again. And for a while it was like they didn’t have a care in the world.

That night, Orin slept soundly. For the first time her sleep was deep, and no shadowy nightmares plagued her. Dawn woke the mother, and she knew she had to go back.

A soft wind now tugged at her hair. The morning light glinted off the gentle waves as she leaned against the railing and peered out into the sea. Just the smell of this place brought back vivid memories of yesterday, and Orin’s smile was so persistant that her face ached. She loved it.

Her golden eyes slipped closed, and the woman took in a deep, cleansing breath. For the first time in many months she felt... okay.

Like magic, he was there. The woman wasn't startled, though, as her eyes slowly opened to find her friend standing next to her. She looked up at the tall man, smiling. Her choppy blond hair whisked about her face at the whim of the breeze, and so did the locks of fur of Shawchert's mane.

"You feel it too?" She knew just by looking at him. The same thing happened to him as to her... or so Orin thought. He could have seen her leave the Terrace, might have just followed her here out of curiosity, but something inside told her that wasn't the case. "I just had to come back. This place is so spectacular. Thank you for yesterday."

A gull cackled overhead, and she glanced up to see a trio soar over them and then dive toward the water, probably looking to rustle up some breakfast. She grinned, and then turned away from the water, staring into the old carnival built on top of the water. "This place shouldn't even be here anymore. What's the chances that it hasn't fallen into the ocean yet? It's like it's fate. Like it's meant to be here... Like it's been here since the world was created. Like we were meant to be here."

She laughed softly and poked at his ribs. “Old man, you give yourself too much credit. You're not half as smart as you would be if you were as old as you pretend to be.” After all, if Shawchert really was an 'old man,' what would that make her? Middle aged? No thank you, sir.

Everything happens for a reason? Yeah, that's what people said all right, but Orin wasn't sure that she believed it. So far things never seemed to puzzle out. Things happened that caused a series of events for sure, but even after reading a hundred tales of great gods and wonderful heros, Orin wasn't sure that she bought into it. Maybe she had just lost her faith, maybe it was Desdemona still haunting her, making her a more cynical woman than she used to be. At least it felt like that part of her was fading, fast. Still, she wasn't sure that Demetrius's death had happened for a reason.

She chewed her bottom lip, trying not to give away the path of her thoughts but being terrible at hiding her emotions, as always. The strife in her face melted away soon though when Shawchert mentioned how wonderful yesterday had been. Her ears perked and it felt like she could hear the girls' laughter screaming from the roller coaster. Of course the old rides weren't nearly as epic as they had once been, but the two parent Luperci seemed to have done a good enough job at pushing the carts to the top of their faded wave-mimicking hills, and letting them roll down with cargo pups.

Orin reached out to Shawchert, slipping her arms around the man and hugging him tightly. She was half his size, but somehow she found it within her to give him a crushing hug. “You're right. I don't know what I believe in anymore, but right now I believe in the spirit here. I wonder if anybody else ever comes here. I might have made a home here once.”

A gull landed on the pier railing next to them, pecking at something on the old wood. “Oh god, how I hate seagulls...” she said with a laugh. Once upon a time, this place would have been her worst nightmare, crowded with flocks of seabirds trying to cash in on kids' clumsy fingers, picking at old popcorn and dropped packets of peanuts.

Despite her disdain for seagulls, she couldn't help but giggle at the sight that was before her. Shawchert waved his arms menacingly but the stoic seagull was unperturbed. It merely raised it's pegged head, glared at them with beady eyes, and promptly decided that there was no reason to heed the dangers that two wolves presented to poultry. The bird flapped, moved a few feet away, and then continued to stare Shawchert down. It was either really stupid, or very clever.

“I'm not scared of them, per say,” she retorted indignantly. Why the hell would she be scared of a bird?! “They're just evil, murderous, blood lusting bastards!” She jabbed an accusing finger at the seagull, and it didn't even have the decency to look scared.

“Come on, Shawchert, lets go.” She spun around, snubbing her nose at the annoying thing and stomping off indignantly. But instead of leaving the carnival, she headed farther down the pier into the mess of dilapidated rides.

“Hey!” she called a moment later, already in the hollowed out back of a giant, faded duckling. “Come push me on this one! It looked like fun yesterday.” She laughed and kicked her feet, pounding on the fiberglass duck to urge Shawchert to hurry.

Her giggling only grew louder as Shawchert took up a spot at the duck's plastic tail feathers and pushed. At first the old, rusted wheels groaned in protest but even decades of oxidation couldn't overpower the Luperci's strength, and soon the most stubborn rust flaked away and the thing grinded forward. After a few meters, the scraping noise died down as the old ride gave in to it's fate of having to work once more, even if this time it was powered manually rather than by the old generators and conduit that once fueled the attraction.

There were a few small hills, and each time Shawchert had to push her up one she'd pound on the side of the duck like a child, feigning impatience. “Faster, faster!” And then the duck would roll down the small incline and come to a stop, and Orin would tease him as she waited for him to catch up. After two or three of these miniature “hills,” the duck cart rolled to a stop, and Orin stared up in awe at the largest wooden hill of all.

“Oh my god!” She screeched, turning around in the cart and leaning over the yellow rear, a toothy grin pointed at Shawchert. This hill was too steep and too tall for Shawchert to push the cart up by himself, but the glint in Orin's eye told that she had other plans. “Are you thinking what I'm thinking?”

She didn't wait for his answer – instead she just climbed out of the car and put her hands on the tail. But she couldn't push it by herself; clearly she didn't mean for him to get in... yet.

“Once we get to the top, jump in!” If all went according to plan, they'd be plummeting down the other side in no time.

A squeak of fear squeezed out of the woman, but before she could get hurt Shawchert's strong arms wrapped around her waist and held her steady. She grappled for the side of the cart, finally finding hold after a few seconds of scrambling, and then was pulled to safety. She stared at him wide-eyed for a moment, panting gently, then she looked over the side of the cart again – this time with far less enthusiasm. “That could have hurt...” She muttered as she looked at the ground, and all the things she might have bounced off of if he hadn't caught her.

A moment later her gaze returned to Shawchert, and that smile pressed onto her muzzle again. Past him she could see the sparkling sea – the sun no longer cast orange hues on the horizon, now creeping higher in the sky as the morning moved on. She laughed softly, thinking of the first time they met. “Hey, you did it again,” she chortled as she thought about the time she was stuck so precariously in the apple tree. “My knight in shining armor.”