Visits to the girl were rare, timed to when he sensed @Etienne was tending to her gradually knitting wounds. 

He had nothing to say to either, and mercifully, the girl did not talk. While conversations were not something Anselm desired, he wanted for company. Company that was in sparse supplies these days. The last of Raindrop’s scents had faded, winter was closing in, and Anselm felt driven half-mad by his own spiraling seclusion. 

Still, he could not voice these things. His pride was too uncompromising. Conceding that at last his continued dickishness presented poor prognosis for his prolonged survival, Anselm brought a small winter hare to the healer while he stood watch over the girl. How is she?

Etienne saw Anselm in fleeting moments of silence. When the girl was resting and he was watching over her. Moments that were precious to the seaborn even if he never voiced such things. Anselm was confusing and conflcited and Etienne knew he deserved better. But well. He couldn't leave the young man to fend alone.

Etienne looked in surprise at the rabbit, but a small flickering smile lit up his face and eyes. One that he quickly allowed to disperse. Knowing it would make Anselm uncomfortable.

Eti looked her over.Seems to be 'ealing well. I worry dat i moved 'er to quickly. It was not a good idea, but I didn't know w'at else to do. We will not know if dere be lastin' damage until later.

She didn't consciously track anybody down, but she was a social creature like the rest of her species, and Fiona soon found herself drifting toward where her two packmates gathered around the girl with the head trauma. Fiona had paid her no mind, thinking she was a bad investment. It still did not make any sense for Anselm to take her in. At least she—Fiona—was an able-bodied wolf who could add to their caches rather than drain them. Sure, Etienne might be hunting for her, but that meant he was doing less hunting for himself and the pack. Fiona was immensely curious about the whole thing.

The witch hung back, ears pricked forward as she hunched low behind a bush. She sat there, quiet as she eavesdropped on their conversation. She picked up right when Etienne explained he did not know if the girl would recover.

As he passed the hare to Etienne, he looked away, unable to confirm that moment by a meaningful exchange of looks. In doing so, he missed the soft smile that briefly eclipsed the seaborn’s gentle face. 

Fiona remained undetected. Anselm’s attention was riveted in front of him.  

His gaze traveled to the girl. Her fur was dark and thin, speaking to a history of malnourishment Anselm immediately recognized. Vould she have died if you did not move her? He shifted to peer at the thin cut that scythed across her flesh. Then you did the right thing.

It was the closest Anselm would get to altruism in this moment. He resented the girl — and her mother — for existing, but he did not resent Etienne for his generous heart. He recognized that he benefited from Etienne’s generosity too, and it was not a weakness but a strength that compelled the seaborn to always do what was right.

A prickling of unease skittered along Etienne's spine. But he chalked it up to being in the close proximity of Anselm and never knowing what the young man might do. Anselm quickly looked away and Etienne decided not to say much about the rabbit. Though he did gently move it to the side to eat later.

Etienne nodded his head. Yes I would bet my own life on it. If de wound didn't kill 'er. Anodder predator would 'ave. There was much blood. So would 'ave de cold 'ad she not woken up. She was literally in de river bed. (Danni could be wrong. Pretty sure she was though)

Etienne gave a soft sigh. I 'ope so. But you never really know wit' 'ead injuries. Given dat I be movin' 'er and it was a 'ead injury anyway. It still may kill 'er or leave her damaged. We just 'ave to 'ope 'er 'as de strong will to live.

Etienne blinked and looked away. It isn't pretty w'en a wolf be givin' up. Etienne swallowed remembering his uncle, and swordfish. How uncle was so guilt ridden he just wanted to die.

Anselm listened to Etienne describe how he’d found the girl. The image was gristly, and spoke ill of survival. 

He grunted, marveling at the girl’s luck. She just so happened to be stupid near his home, where his capable healer would find her. He knew the forces of the world could pull things to their appointed destinations. Immediately, he was distrustful of the girl and her family. 

You had to move her, as you said. Time vill tell if she is veak. Like her mother, he almost muttered. But the Widow had been a hard match, and more than bested him. Have you seen a volf give up?

Etienne knew, it was possible the girl wouldn't make it. But perhaps he always wanted to fix them because he lost so many in a short amount of time. And no matter how hard he had tried he couldn't put Sobo back together again.

Etienne froze at the question. And his paw tightened in the dirt. A chill worked its way down his back and he was there. The reek of death and infection in the healing den. Blood and inner workings of tails. His uncles body pieces in his paws. Then his granme and her last sacrifice. The poison she had eaten to save them all.

A shaky breath and another. A lump deep in his throat.

I 'ave.

Golden eyes blinked but their stare was far away.

I also know w'at it is to watc' someone sacrifice everyting for de ones dey love. And I know 'ow it feels to 'ave de blood of dose you love on your paws w'en you can't fix dem. 'ave you ever seen a bear tear apart a wolf, Anselm? All dat's left is pieces.

Unknown to Anselm, his words evoked a powerful memory.

He watched as a dark shadow passed over Etienne's face. Anselm could not possibly envision what stirred there, but he felt a similar chill rake his spine.

Anselm had never seen a bear at all. Suddenly, a door was opened Anselm had never considered before: Etienne's vivid life before he'd ever come to the Hollow. Vho vas it? He asked quietly, forgetting about the girl completely in that moment.

Etienne hated this road they had begun to travel. He had worked hard to get past it. Though perhaps he never had, merely buried it.

Eti wasn't sure how to answer him, because it was so much. And so many were involved. He sighed.

There were many involved and many effected, Anselm. But.

My uncle Sobo was torn apart by de bear. I saw it. I tried to put 'im back toget'er, but i could not.

His throat was thick. Oh it hurt to talk about. How he had tried and couldn't. The blood on his paws. The cold wind from the sea.

My uncle Quennel was the one w'o gave up. Because 'e 'ad been attacked and de bear followed 'im. Ripp 'is tail off lef 'im for dead. 'E was so 'eart broken. The lifeless r
Eyes of his uncle even though he lived and breathed.

My granme Erzulie ate de poison to sacrifice 'erself to de bear for our family. And de it was all s'ambles. And i left soon after.


I left because, I look almost exactly like my granme Erzulie and it 'urt my family every time de look at me.

He could not speak of Granme Roz not yet. The one wolf who had treated him as a normal little boy. Who hadn't wondered if he could speak to spirits or look at him with sadness when they saw Erzulie face upon him.

Etienne’s sorrowed gaze painted half the picture, and his words spoke the rest. 

To Anselm, everything he shared was unspeakable horror. This narrative opened a new world for the narrow-minded man, who up until now had only ever looked at Etienne through the lenses of how he played into his own life. But there was a whole side of Etienne who existed before he’d ever encountered Anselm — and that side was fleetingly seen. 

There was a long silence between them. Anselm thought of the grandmother - and to himself, how she must have been a striking creature if she resembled Etienne at all. 

Finally, he found his voice. He wanted to say he would kill any bear that touched Etienne — but his vulnerability was not quite there yet.  I am sorry. Your family must miss you.

Etienne's life the biggest parts were hard to speak of. It hurt and it was ugly. But there was good in the bad. How even though it hurt his manman to look at him. She still did. She loved him. Suzu loved him.

Eti smiled softly, sweetly. Dey do and i miss dem. I seen dem recently. But told dem my 'ome was 'ere. Dey say as long as I visit.

Etienne had already made the decision to stay. But he would have Anselm know this too.

Granme Erzulie one dat teach me to 'eal. 'Er wife Granme Roz just loved me. 'Er was my favorite. I love 'er so very much. 'Er deat' was de final straw. W'en de grief struck me down so 'ard, i almos didn't get back up.

Fiona was more of the mind that some patients were not worth saving. She considered the girl to be one of them. The witch had not signed any hippocratic oath. She remained quiet—undetected for the time being—listening as they passed words back and forth. The tale of the grandmother was particularly interesting. It was not a thing Fiona could imagine herself doing, but it was quite a clever way to kill a bear.

Then, an apology, a sliver of empathy for Etienne was shown by Anselm. Very curious, indeed. It was strange to think that Anselm had been so clear on Fiona getting nowhere near the other man, when they appeared to be on good terms otherwise. Then again, matters of children were often well-guarded by the leader of the pack. Fiona was simply glad to have a plan for herself.

Her ear turned toward them again when Etienne mentioned his grandmother and her wife. She had heard of such things, but they were not common where she had come from. Such pairings did not bring about children to populate the coven.

He knew a thing or two about hurt and ugliness. His gaze shifted away as he saw Etienne's countenance break in a sad smile. Anselm did not like to see distress on Etienne's handsome face, but he like the idea of betraying his feelings even less.

After all, he was not g--

Did Etienne just mention he had visited his family? A family with -- with lesbians?

His eyes flickered. Wylla would be howling right now, and he somehow didn't think his father was a paragon of acceptance, either. 

it was getting too sentimental. Etienne had put his heart and soul out there, and now Anselm was the crow come to pick it over. A better adjusted wolf would have been gentle, but Anselm was immature in all ways that mattered.

Hold up, vhat -- your grandmothers were.. wives?

He took a deep breath of air and exhaled: Gayyyyyyyyyyyyyy.

Etienne knew much more than he should have. About pain about survival about loss. But he also had seen the happier side of things.

Etienne frowned. And flinched slightly. Oh what Anselm would think of him when he found out, he to was gay

He held up a paw. His voice a little firm. ti gason grosye

He nodded. Yes de were an' love each otter very muc' to de ends of de eart' de would 'ave followed. You go now. Go. I take care of de girl and sleep. Go. You need rest too.

He pointed with his jaw set firmly towards the door.

Ooops. Anselm knew by Etienne's tone he'd struck a nerve.  The seaborn held up a paw, speaking again in the lyrical lilt of his natal tongue.

Anselm was being shown the door. He rose with a shake of his ruff, outwardly unapologetic. Inwardly, he was a little disappointed -- but he hid this well.

He stopped at the threshold to turn back to Etienne, the lightest flick of his tail given in a smug gesture almost arrogant. I like moun fou better.

With that he stepped out into the world. His nose hurt, his pride was still barely clinging to life -- but he left with a hidden smile secure on his face.

Etienne found their banter grosly calming. And he wondered at his own sanity not for the thousandth time.

Etienne stared at him and then laughed. A lilting lyrical sound that matched his voice and language.

If Anselm only knew what that meant. He probably wouldn't like it so much. But he had gotten him to laugh. He would settle to the ground woth a sigh and a soft grumble.

As he walked away, laughter pealed from the den.

The way that noise balmed his soul; it was like a warm sweep of sun after a long cold spell.

Anselm did not look back though he wanted to. He imagined Etienne curling nose to tail, a smile worn on his features as he drifted to sleep. For a long moment, he savored that image.

But then he reminded himself this was all very wrong, and the usual residual self-loathing returned to make his heart its gristly home.

The obvious insult to Etienne's grandmothers was to be expected. Anselm put up a guard whenever things got to "real" for him. It was a different guard than she had seen with herself, though. Instead of physically rebuking Etienne, Anselm did so with words. Perhaps he cared for Etienne more than others. That would track, considering it seemed as though Etienne had been living here for some time. Even the most cruel of wolves developed friendships with those who stuck around. It was why she planned to do so herself.

Etienne seemed to shrug off the insult, though he did push Anselm away gently afterward. Curious indeed. He was willing to take even insults from the man. Why did he stick around, even after all the abuse?

Fiona mulled on these things as she pulled back and away, glad to have gotten the opportunity to observe both of them without her interference.