A week had passed since Kaori’s departure, and several since Airi had gone missing. Thoughts of them weighed heavily on her mind, whilst the beating of her heart had seemed to intensify with worry ever since they’d gone away. She could not search for them, could not abandon her tribe. All she could do was hope that they were alright, and believe that no harm could ever befall her girls. If she could maintain a positive way of thinking, perhaps everything would end just fine—this she wanted to rely on, but could not. In the night, whilst little light reached the cavern’s floor, Asterr made her way out through the entrance and over the mountains. From ridge to ridge she trekked, searching for any signs that might settle her, as well as any hints of battles that may have taken place.

Without realizing it, the dragoness found herself descending down into the hollow, her emotions unchanged. She hadn’t found anything that might confirm the deaths of her daughters, nor had she discovered anything to tell her that they were still safe. With a sigh, she proceeded to travel south, contemplating whether or not she might venture as far as the flatlands.

Each step taken led her nearer to answers that, in all honesty, she wasn’t entirely sure if she wanted. She had to convince herself that knowing was better than not in order to keep her legs moving forward, rather than turning tail and retreating back towards the lair. It was as a scent wrapped itself around her nose that she was given a whole new reason to keep moving forward. She knew not if it was simply her mind playing on her a trick, and couldn’t be bothered to care. Asterr stopped only after having spotted a dark mass, the face barely able to be seen through the night. Growing still, she stared, expression unreadable.

Her mouth opened, a warning of words to come, but then shut long before anything could escape. He had vanished from her lair, disappeared whilst wounded and then thought to have perished. Yet, there he seemed to be, alive and well enough to have survived alone; she could only assume that he was unaccompanied by another wolf, for no other shapes or scents could be detected. Raising a forelimb, she intended to take another step towards him but stopped herself just as she had prevented her mouth from spilling words. And though she could not speak, her eyes screamed why?—why had he fled before, but, more importantly, why was he back?

She hadn’t known what to expect from him, not then or ever. She could only stare whilst her mind worked to figure out what she could say, though a part of doubted that she would receive answers no matter how she spoke. A growl broke the silence and she stepped back, distrustful. She should have gone in a different direction, perhaps directly to the lake, rather than assuming that she might better pick up on traces of her children in the mountains. Had she done so, she never would have seen the man, but she had and so she needed to deal with her consequences of her mistake. Her concern had lured her straight into danger, which she watched with a mixture of dread and confusion in her eyes. She had messed up in the past but had hoped that treating his wounds prior to his leaving would have evened that out—now that she had been given the chance to meet him again, she became aware of the fact that her care hadn’t changed anything.

Again, her mouth opened, but what she should have said never came out. Instead, the first words to leave her mouth were, “Stop it.” She knew not what had driven her to speak, when she knew, in the back of her mind, that he would never listen. He had never listened before, so why would he now? The smartest thing she could do was leave, return to her home where she was protected by the cavern’s walls, but, of course, she did the opposite. She could not let herself leave without receiving an answer, and so she went on to ask, “Why did you leave?” It had not made sense to her at the time, and it still didn't.

The noise grew louder, forcing her ears to lay flat against her skull whilst the voice within her head insisted that she leave. It was not Draco’s, but a variation of her own, which left it without any chance at being listened to. If the dragon himself wasn’t frightened, didn’t want for her to leave, then perhaps she would be okay. His word had always been what she relied on, though she questioned him now, for it had been because of him that she’d accepted Ukko in the past; Draco had failed her just that once, however, and so she could not act against him given just how many more times he had saved her. So for as long as he assured her that she'd be fine, she decided that she would remain there, even as doing so became difficult.

With the moon’s glow overhead, she caught sight of his scar, which seemed to be a warning all by itself. Still, she refused to run and hide, having chosen instead to hold her ground. The snapping of teeth in her direction made her body stiffen, but otherwise remain still and unwavering—a mistake, she soon realized. The distance between them was further lessened and, before she’d an opportunity to react, she’d felt teeth pinch her nose. A yelp slipped out passed her lips as she backpedaled, replacing the distance that had been stolen away. The feeling awoke the dragon, causing for him to brush up against her conscious, rubbing himself across it as if he were a cat. For the first time, she was afraid. For her own safety, as well as the risk of her losing control; the latter scared her more, for even though it was all in her head, she had grown to believe it to be real.

Steadying herself, she glanced sideways in either direction, her head stilled as she sought out an escape route. Eventually, her eyes settled back on the male, widened and fearful, but without panic. “Leave my mountains,” she forced out, driven by a surge of bravery—or perhaps it was stupidity.

The order went unanswered, responded to with laughter alone. She could feel her stomach twisting from the fear she’d since swallowed, urging her to flee, though she knew that she could not. The lair was her home, the mountains hers to protect, and it seemed as if the latter was in danger. His presence alone disturbed her, the wolf she saw no longer the one that had followed her home so long ago. He was a threat now, and she wanted nothing more than for him to leave—the mountains, the Wilds, and perhaps even this life. She could have run, she could have left him there, but her need to defend that which she felt belonged to her prevented her from doing so. Not only that but the reminder that two of her children were not home kept her there, too, the thought that he might find them deeply unsettling—terrifying, even.

As he took a step towards her, she took one backwards, away from him. The pull of the dragon, his quest to gain control, nearly became something that she could ignore no longer. A part of her wished to give in, to grant him the power that he so desired and hope that, with his strength, she would be able to protect both herself and her home. She considered it but knew that she could not throw away all of the time spent in her youth training to control the beast. She had learned to restrain him, to accept him as he was, and so she could not abandon her place above him.

With a hesitant step forward, she forced both her ears and tail upwards, careful to cover her fear with a thin veil of neutrality. To display even the slightest traces of dominance towards anyone had always left her feeling uncomfortable, but she pushed passed the unease to better focus on what she was trying to accomplish. “You will leave these mountains,” repeated the vessel, voice unwavering. “You told me once that your father was a terrible man and that you did not want to be like him—but you have become him. You do not belong here, you are no longer capable of maintaining the peace.” So often had she given others the benefit of the doubt, but now, as she stared at the man, she could not imagine that the Ukko she once knew still existed within him.

Onto her, the blame fell, though she refused to accept it. She had spoken neither a lie nor the truth, but had simply remained silent; perhaps that was worse than either. He was not hers to control and he had never been, she could not bend his will to fit with her own. All that he had done, every thought that he’d had and moves he’d made, had been his own doing and she would not accept any responsibility for it. “I told you that you would never become him for as long as you did not wish to,” she stated, set in her ways. “I am not the cause of this. You chose to leave, you chose to become your father—you can blame only yourself.” She could not bring herself to shoulder the blame, to accept his words as if they were the truth. She had done so too many times before, but could not any longer.

The glint of teeth made her muscles tense further, and his step forward sent her backwards. She had hoped to hold her ground, to remain still and move not even an inch back, but she’d failed. Her body had acted on its own, driven by the need to protect itself. “I would be a fool to not fear a beast,” she threw out, coming to terms at last with the terror that she felt. She could recall no other points in her life during which she’d felt true fear, aside from the present. When raised to believe yourself to be invincible, it becomes difficult to be terrified of anything, but Ukko had succeeded in making her blood run cold.

“Back away,” she ordered, suddenly feeling trapped. Like a caged bird, she sought freedom but found it to be unobtainable. Even with her knowledge of the mountains, she doubted how capable she’d be at outrunning him. In theory, she need only get close enough to her home to summon her tribe, but even that path felt like one she could not cross. There was quite some distance between the hollow and her home, plenty of ridges and loose earth; her options were limited to stay and fight or flee and risk angering him even more than he already was—either way, there was a risk of death.

More blame was pushed onto her, none of which she could accept. She could not agree with him, could not confirm that she’d never cared because, at some point, she had. As far as she was concerned, whatever might have been taken from him had then been given back, and then some. In various forms, yes, but she had given him all that she had been able to. And yet, despite that, she continued to be blamed for that which was either out of her control or could no longer be changed. “I gave you everything,” she managed to get out, her words forced. Perhaps silence would have been better, but she could no better stop her words than he could rid himself of his anger. “I gave you a home. I gave you my children, a family. I gave you power, but nothing was ever enough for you.” With her fear, there came anger of her own, fueled by betrayal; his, as well as all of those that had come and gone before him.

At first, his words hadn’t been understood. It’d taken her a moment to realize what he meant, but she’d not been given an opportunity to reply. There was another step, sending her backwards, but it wasn’t enough. She’d hardly the chance to blink before the distance between them was lost entirely, his body colliding with hers. Along with a yelp, the air from her lungs was pushed out passed her lips, leaving her winded and stunned. Her body was thrown to the ground by the force of the impact, then pinned there by the male’s mass. Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to curl in on herself, a whimper slinking up and out of her throat.

Teeth connected with flesh and, for a moment, her breathing stopped. Trapped in her throat, it could find no escape until after her release. She had expected something more, something that would allow her to return home and find someone to take the man’s life, but there were only words. A statement, short and direct, that left her with questions. She stared after his retreating form as she picked her own up from the ground, steadying herself and resisting the urge to shake out her coat. Silver eyes were forced to linger on the male, trailing after him as he became one with the shadows. “Why…?” her voice trailed off and her mouth shut, preventing the escape of any other words. Shaking her head, the dragoness retreated several steps, further distancing herself from the wolf.

Without another word, she continued to watch him, waiting for any signs of movement. Despite the attack, she wished him away, still, and refused to leave until her mountains were cleansed of his being.

The question that she’d intended to ask was never completed, and so it never received an answer. Still, it was present within the back of her mind, influenced more so by need than true curiosity—but it remained unasked, lacking the strength to transform into actual words. In fact, it seemed as if few of her thoughts had the capability to turn themselves into sentences, her mind far more focused on watching than it was speaking. The way in which he laid across the earth, his body pressed against her mountains, kept hold of her gaze. She could not look away, nor did she want to, her body held in place by various things—the need to protect her home, her worries over what he might do, and so on.

His voice broke the silence, the anger that his words created encouraging her to speak. “If you do not want them, then leave,” said the vessel, her tone nearing the edge of a command. “Leave my mountains now and never return.” A soul as vile as his, no longer accepted by Draco, did not deserve to set foot onto the range. It belonged to her, despite what others might believe, and she could not leave him to drag his loathsome self through her domain.