Maybe she had done something—enlightened the other canine in some way. Kaena was beginning to feel that there was no justification for her actions. Rape was a terrible crime, and few deserved it—she continued to feel that Salvaged had deserved it. He had perpetrated that crime on many others, and it had only been fitting that he had gone down in a blaze of glory and experienced it himself for the first time. That had been an act of vengeance for all of his victims, of which there had been many. The silver-furred hybrid still had difficulty equating what she had done as exactly the same thing that had been done to her—the physical aspect was not there, but it was with the same intent. The hybrid had done it to prove to herself, or Vieira, or the world that she was still in control of something, even if that something was a virtually defenseless canine.
Frowning, the hybrid folded her ears back, obvious discomfort on her face. This hadn't done anything, really—once again she'd used Vieira for comfort, though the paler canine had fallen far short of that. There was some sense of catharsis in that Kaena had released some of the pent-up sadness and aggression, but beyond that there was little relief for the silvery woman. Perhaps there never would be; maybe she was meant to live with this sense of overbearing anxiety and fear, shame and misery, for the whole of her life. If she had sought reassurance from a strong woman she sought it in the wrong place; Vieira was no more a strong coyote than Kaena was a young buck anymore.
The hybrid took a deep breath, eying the other canine for a moment before she spoke. "I'm sorry... for what I did to you, too," she said. It was awkward—once again the hybrid could not actually speak the depth of her crime. She wondered if the Quintus would balk at the mere mention of it, and after that second of speech the coyote could not meet Vieira's eye again; instead she directed her gaze to the floor, the walls, anything but the other canine. She meant what she had said, however, despite the waver of her voice and the misdirection of her eye. Maybe Vieira would never forgive her; maybe Kaena would never find accord within herself for the deed. She had apologized for it aloud.
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