Wolf RPG

The loneliness bothered her less now.  Perhaps, now that it was complete, it no longer felt like it was her fault she felt that way.  Instead it was just another fact.

The night was quiet and clear.  Everything around her was still and even the air in the meadow seemed to be holding its breath, waiting for something.  She had stopped for the night a while ago but couldn't fall asleep.  Nights were when she thought of Figment most.

She wished, so much, that she hadn't needed to do this to him.  She knew that leaving him behind had been the right decision now but it didn't make the guilt any easier to swallow.  He deserved better than her - but she deserved to do what it took to regain what she'd lost.  It didn't matter who she was with right now.  There was no reality in which they could give her what she actually needed.  Sticking around would only lose her more.

Especially with Killdeer. Remembering his voice as he begged her to stay hurt the worst, but it would have been too easy to try and use her loneliness against him. It was tempting even at the time to turn him against his dad - to ensure that he never wanted anything to do with the man again. It didn't matter how much she thought she hated Bronco. She couldn't allow herself to do it and, of all of the wolves in the wilds, her son was the last one she wanted identifying with the anger she was riddled with. Hopefully he would come to understand that.

Fennec did eventually fall asleep, accompanied with the gentle rumbling of her stomach. Food was always going to be a problem she would have to sort out but, the next morning, it didn't take her long to decide on an answer. From that point on she was once again the Wraith. She had no other name, no family, and no home. Whenever anyone asked she was simply a ghost from the south, a seer and a healer; still not a witch. Even if she'd had the heart to pick up the title again, it would have given her away in an instant. She might as well not use a fake name at all.

For the next while she would travel and find some measure of success with the ruse; Packs that wanted to exchange healing knowledge, wanderers who wanted their fortunes read, strangers who sought answers. It would earn her the meals to get by, for a time, and it allowed her to immerse herself in being someone who had none of the baggage she'd dragged out here with her. Even if the bags were still stacked just out of sight, being able to pretend did do her some measure of good. This time she was determined to find who she could be on her own. Maybe then she'd figure out how to live with herself again.