Venturing both through and beyond the valley had become something of a habit for him, legs taking him places even without his agreement. Whatever drove him knew what areas to avoid, where the dangers hid in waiting, thus keeping him from ceasing the aimless journeys. That day, however, he felt rather betrayed by himself the second he entered the familiar embrace of the grove. Furrowing his brows, he glanced from one direction to the next, looking but not really seeing. Behind his eyes there played memories, however few he’d made during his short stay there with the others. Nevertheless, it was enough to bother him, leaving him itching to see more and relive however much of it that his mind would allow. It was with oblivion reigning over his being that he proceeded, making his way down familiar trails whilst following ghosts—ghosts that, oddly enough, took on physical forms before long.

The first he saw was Ocra, her face unable to be forgotten, which made him stop dead in his tracks. Alexander’s eyes then drifted towards the other, thinking it was Sriracha at first, only to realise right away that it wasn’t. Jerkily shaking his head, he decided that the first wolf wasn’t actually Ocra; the two wouldn’t have parted ways, so this must just be a look-alike. Although… the similarities were uncanny, keeping him from drawing any closer. Instead, he held back, staring onward like like a socially awkward child and listening (read: eavesdropping) in the hopes of catching their names. Perhaps the look-alike was related to Ocra somehow—that seemed far more believable than her having returned without her friend in tow.

Watching the interaction unfold, he wondered if he was just wasting his own time. Despite how similar the one female was to Ocra, it couldn’t possibly be her. She’d left months ago, leaving him all alone shortly after he’d left the woods for them. They had both just up and left without a trace or a word; Xan had spent weeks wondering where they’d gone and why they decided to leave him before finally finding it within himself to forget them. They weren’t coming back—he had told himself that so many times that he’d actually started to believe it. There was nothing left for either of them to return to, so what would draw either of them back? Perhaps he would have been convinced had he seen Sriracha, knowing that Ocra would never go anywhere without him... right?

Maybe not.

The Inuk was seconds away from turning when he heard the Ocra look-a-like mentioned having once lived there. Curious, he stilled and listened further, shock blinding him seconds later. So, it was Ocra. He suddenly felt lightheaded, needing to process this information. Did she come back for him…? No, she wouldn’t have. Even if she had, it wouldn’t have mattered. Shaking his head, he considered his escape route but froze before taking it, feeling eyes on him. Peering through the various flora, his gaze met hers and he knew—he knew he’d been caught, that he couldn’t just vanish into thin air, entirely undetected.

Swallowing, he took a few slow steps forward, legs stiff and eyes never leaving her direction. Forgetting that they weren’t alone, he didn’t think to glance towards the other female, Ocra having his full attention. Yet, once he was fully exposed, he couldn’t think of anything to say. His mind was suddenly blank and his throat dry, silence taking over until…

Why was she there? Why was she back? Why did she leave? Why wasn’t Sriracha with her? Just… why?

He found himself looking towards the pink-eyed woman, her question left hanging in the air. He opened his mouth to answer but the voice that gave his name was not his own, luring his gaze back over to Ocra—why is she there? Her attempt at taking the attention off of herself and dragging the bystander—that’s all Witchbaby was to him in this situation—into their mess didn’t phase him. Never did he look away, eyes trained on her as his tornado of emotions settled down and favoured just one: anger. His lips twitched with the temptation of snarling at her, as it was the only way that he knew how to get what he was feeling out in the open for her to see—for her to see what she had done, to experience the consequences of her impulsiveness.

But nothing happened. He didn’t snarl or even growl at her, he just continued to stare.

“You wouldn’t have needed to look if you hadn’t run off,” he shot back. “What, did Sriracha get tired of you? Is that why you’re suddenly back—back here, of all places?” There came a reminder, from the depths of his mind, on how to deal with problems. He wanted to rush forward, to make her regret having ever ended their friendship with her abandonment, but he couldn’t. Stuck where he stood, he couldn’t lash out in any way aside from verbally, his body wouldn’t let him.

Alexander paid no mind to the words of the stranger nor even her departure, her existence having more or less been wiped clean from his mind. All he could see was Ocra, her voice being the only one to reach his ears right now—and he hated it. Not because she was speaking but because she was lying, and doing so in a way that it almost seemed believable—almost being the keyword. But he did not fall for it, he did not allow himself to be dragged back in and forced to forgive when he had no reason to do so.

She had run off. She had abandoned him. These were facts, she could not deny them.

“But you did,” he retorted. “You just up and left without a word to anyone—to me.” He had been a fool to think they were friends, to trust her even after every event in his life told him that doing so was a terrible idea. He’d ignored reason, he’d ignored the past, and for what? To have it repeat itself, just the same as it always did. “I get it, you always liked Sriracha more than me, but was being around me so bad that you couldn’t even say goodbye? You just abandoned me here…” And it had hurt.

She did not argue or try to defend herself. All she did was stand there, staring at him before averting her gaze to the ground. He felt his anger gradually bubbling up inside him, ready to spill over in the form of insults and more accusations, but nothing ever came out of his mouth. He was given one last glance before she turned and, once again, left him there all alone.

But this time, he was prepared. He’d expected it from her, believing that few deserved a second chance; if they left once, they would always leave again, just as she was doing. Yet, it still hurt, and he felt a sharp pang in his chest as he stared at her retreating form, but he couldn’t chase after her. He couldn’t drag her back to him when he knew she would just leave again—she would always leave, no matter the circumstances, because he wasn’t Sriracha.

Tearing his eyes off of her, Alexander finally turned and took off in the opposite direction, heart aching and trust stripped entirely from his body.