Bitterroot Valley feels like we only go backwards

Nothing Alarian accused him of was a lie. He had left, and had not come back--at least to Alarian's knowledge. Knowing it was a lie hurt even worse, and Zamael's eyes raked the ground, guilt contorting his features. He took a long moment to compose himself before looking up again, trying to convey the shame he felt, the apology that would never be adequate.

"A part of me died with Carvel," Zamael explained, struggling to say the name aloud after so long. It might have been the first time he'd said it since that night. "When you told me Arnlith had killed him, I lost myself. I needed to get away--I needed a fresh start." He hung his head again. "I should have taken you with me. I'm sorry."

He took a deep breath, closing his eyes. If he focused enough, he could smell the sea again, taste the salt on his lips. "I lived on the coast for a while, but then I returned to Sunfil Grove," Zamael continued. "Looking for you. Looking to find you. Instead I found Shaara, with these pups--" His words caught in his throat, almost like a gag, as he thought of the circumstances he'd run into. Poor Celia, gone after delivering pups from Runion's seed. That boy, made in the image of his father.

"It's all gone wrong. But I want to make things right." Zamael's eyes bored into Alarian's face, hot and impenetrable as the earth's core. "I came to find you, Alarian. I don't want to leave you alone, after all this time."