The rain was brutal today, more so than it had been in the last couple weeks; tonight there would be a veritable storm. Zalen, like a liquid shadow, was sliding through the trees as best he could in his two legged form. The paint on his face, which had already been faded and in need of reapplying, was sliding down his cheek, making it seem as if his green eyes were bleeding. Had he known the rain was to start up like this, he would not have left his den. But he was on a mission, a mission to bring closure to a painful chapter in his life, one that had must end before he could truly be completely enveloped in the joy of the new chapter he had begun.
He was heading to Lucia’s old home, and would pass through the place they had met before. He was bringing a gift, a gift of goodbye, one that had been meant as a gift of love; but that love was no gone, disappeared into the wind as she had. He clutched the small, hume made thing in his hand, the strange rainbow colored cube he had found in Halifax the day he had met the bird handler. He looked down at it, at its strangeness; he never did figure out what it was used for, but it was a nifty thing. He had planned on giving it to Lucia as a token of his affection, and had also planned on asking her to be his mate, if she would have him. After his talk with Soran, after he had found out more about her ex-lover, he was confronted with a tough decision but had found that his feelings could not be ignored.
But when he had gone to meet her, to see her again, to confess all these things to her, she had not been there. He had visited her den and their meeting spot several times following that, but her scent had grown cold; she was gone. Zalen had been so distraught then, pushed even more to go off and found a new life for himself in the north, and that’s when he had met Titania. Ah, Titania, the young wolfess that had so quickly stolen his heart. Even to this moment, the logic in him told him it could not be so, but his heart said strongly otherwise.
Now, he was coming back to this place, and would lay this gift against the tree he had last smelled her, and would finally let her go, for there was not enough room in his heart for both the dark femme and the light one.
The wind whipped at him, tore at his hair that was luckily bound in a tight braid, the hawk feathers fluttered behind his ear. He was panting, him breath rising from him and then being swept away quickly by the gale, but he close. As he neared the tree, he thought for a fleeting moment he could even see Lucia there, sitting like a shadowy statue by the tree, but he brushed it off as a trick of his mind and the torrent. But then, as he neared, he saw the emerald in her eyes and he stopped cold, his blood turning to ice in an instant. He dropped the gift into the mud.
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