Hurt as she was, cut off as she was, there was still something in Kaena that wanted protecting, some childish part of her that still clung to comfort desperately. Were it not for that piece of her, she would have failed completely as a mother; none of her children would have loved her or even pretended to. Without that part of herself there was nothing but arrogance and barbarism within her. Wicked as she might have pretended to be, there was certainly some good, some softness within the scarred hybrid.
It was buried beneath a mass of old scar tissue and wounds years old, wounds that despite their age were still locked in the healing process, perhaps frozen in stasis where they were forever, intended only to cause the scarred matriarch pain. She had always believed that time was the best healer—yet how could she believe time would be a salve to her own wounds? No, there was only bloodshed for that—there was only tearing to pieces every single thing that ever meant anything to Haku Soul. She should have torn his son's throat out when he came to see her on the borders, but instead... instead she had seen fit to plant a seed of doubt in his mind, another amongst the Dahlians who might view the war in a different way. Perhaps that would blossom into something worthwhile, and she would not regret letting Conor Soul walk away from Inferni intact.
The coyote did and said nothing as the russet woman stepped forward into Inferni territory; she was not a trespasser. If Gabriel might admit that brat DaVinci to their lands... well, Fatin had hell of a lot more right to be here than he did in Kaena's mind. Guilt crept into her, finally. She should have expected that—what else would keep Fatin from Inferni, from her? Even so, the silver-furred woman could think of it only as abandonment; she could not help but hurt over the months alone. She would not have had to isolate herself if Fatin had been there. Torn, frowning, the silver-furred woman swiftly changed the subject, tilting her head to the side and narrowing her golden-yellow eye at the russet woman. She had to maintain strength, she had to retain control. “You're walking into a warzone,” she warned. “You're ready for that?” Maybe it was better for Fatin this way—if it appeared for one second she meant anything to Kaena, Fatin would become Haku's primary target, and he would hurt her first and foremost.
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