475.
It seemed to Kaena it was rather unfair how her absence and Corona's return would coincide; the hybrid woman could not recall having seen her golden-furred daughter for years and years now, though certainly Gabriel's memory would hold more recent evidence of her. The same could not be said for Kaena, who had been on the opposite side of the world the last time Corona had been within Inferni's borders. The hybrid woman had no knowledge of the grave upon which they stood—she'd been informed of Andrezej's death, but no one had thought to tell her where exactly he was buried. It was almost surprising to the silver-furred Centurion that his family would have even bothered to bury him. Gabriel seemed to regard him as a complete traitor to the blood; it was almost strange to her that they would take the time to bury him rather than dump him off somewhere outside of the borders to rot.
There was guilt in Kaena for her youngest children—they hardly knew her. She had faith that her older children had taken care of them, but it was their right to have known her, and she'd left them for Eris. She had never really paid for that. Perhaps Rachias's brief appearance on the borders was some form of it, a brief apparition of her youngest daughter sent to taunt her. They deserved better from Kaena, and she had failed them. She would never know Andrezej nor would he ever know her. The coyote frowned, stalking closer to Corona. It was not a mystery why she'd returned here; she was not unwanted and unwelcome as Vitium was. It was a strange coincidence that the siblings would show up on the same day, but the coyote woman was far calmer with Corona's presence in the lands than with Vitium's. "I should have stuck around for them," the coyote woman said, sounding quite upset over this. She rarely spoke on the subject, and it was difficult to approach. "For all of you," she amended, knowing she'd left all of them.
The coyote woman crept a bit closer to her daughter, hesitant to impose on the other canine's space but desirous of affection nonetheless. Corona was no longer a child but a beautiful woman, absolutely adult. There was nothing childlike about her anymore, but still, the coyote woman could not help but nudge the other canine's hand affectionately, her scarred, russet-splashed muzzle gently brushing against Corona's hand for a moment, then drawing back, standing beside her to peer at the grave curiously. She had never seen it before. "Maybe I could have made things different, somehow..." the hybrid said, trailing off and ending the statement with a sigh. Her single golden-yellow eye was focused only on the grave, the patchy little thing that barely signified the bones beneath the dirt.