The storm has destroyed her sense of direction, and yet again Saoirse is hopelessly lost. She isn't getting any better at navigating these new lands on her own, no matter how many times she and Shige split apart and come together. She's gone farther, this time—a mistake. Yet, perhaps a fortuitous one, for with the rain obscuring sight, sound, and scent, Essie has managed to relax. She isn't used to the weather by any means, but there is something soothing in it.

She thought she'd seen Shige moving through the brush ahead of her, and so she'd picked up her pace, trying to find the other wolf's form once again through curtains of water. She heard the voice, but it was quiet enough she didn't recognize the words even as she finally caught sight of the other. Dark fur had her sighing in relief, throwing herself out of cover and starting toward her companion at a trot—only to catch sight of piercing red eyes, her breath catching in her throat as she scrambled to a stop.

Oh god, they'd been found. She turned tail immediately to run.

Of course, he chases her. She can't even be sure she's leading him away from Shige, and already she can feel him bearing down on her. Essie grit her teeth as she dodged between trees, not daring to glance back at his snapping jaws. If she can just lose him in the brush and the rain, she might get away.

That's when she feels teeth close around her tail, in the same moment her paws slip against a wet rock and she goes tumbling. Her yelp is frightened and furious. Saoirse twisted around to face him again, ignoring the pain of the bite in favor of lunging forward with a snarl.

She isn't going to let him take them. If Essie has to fight, if she has to die to make sure Shige lives, then she's damn well going to. With that thought in mind, she ducked low and threw herself at the male.

He doesn't release his mouthful when she falls, and so she feels sharp teeth dragging, breaking along the length of her tail until she is free. The pain is unbearable—she was rarely injured, before. It only highlights how hard she must fight.

He screams at her, and the words are unintelligable. She can't tell if it's another language or just the rain, or even the ringing in her ears, but she ignores it all. Saoirse cannot lose—she must not lose. For once, she can stand and protect Shige, rather than allowing it to be the other way around for their whole lives. They can be equals.

The murderous scum meets her charge head on, slamming into her even as her teeth cut across his cheek, enough to draw blood before his momentum carried her back, sending her rolling. She tried to latch on and drag him with her, knowing her stance was poor, her body unused to fighting. In contrast, she knows this male is far more experienced.

Her father would have sent nothing less. If she can get him on the ground, however...all wolves are equal when they're pinned.

Her tactic works, and for a few moments she couldn't be more thrilled. She feels like she's winning.  Then his weight comes down, and his teeth snap—capturing a paw as she futilely tries to shove his head away, leaving deep puncture wounds; burying teeth in her chest and nearly taking a chunk of fur back with him while she cries out in pain. It is the weight of him dropping onto her that is the worst, though, nearly crushing her before she starts kicking with her back legs, aiming to take advantage of her position to hit him where he's most vulnerable.

She might have the leverage she needs to throw him off of her, if she tries; so that's what she does, teeth flashing as she trades blows, trying to catch his face, his chest, his throat. Anything that might make him loosen a little and allow her to heave and push.

She will limp for days, and that's with only one injury. Her chest is already covered in blood, her tail is throbbing, and even if a miracle happens and she walks away from this, the inexperienced princess is worried she will die. For one, brief moment, she is vindicated and disgusted both. This is what she wanted to escape from, and she was right to ignore her parents' platitudes.

Worse, she had come from these monsters.

When she lunges for his throat, she is almost lucky—but only almost. Fortunately, her kick lands, and in moments he is off her. She struggled to get to her feet and take the high ground before he recovers, and has only just managed when he starts laughing.

What the hell. It was all she had time to think before his teeth sink into her shoulder and they're rolling again. She tried to return the favor, wrenching her weight to keep them moving until she can somehow, hopefully, end up on top.

It's a shock when the ground gives way beneath them, and they plunge into fire.

Saoirse has never been this hot in her life. The burning water sets each of her wounds screaming, and she recoils from the male seemingly in the same moment he releases her. She was busy thrashing her way to the surface, gasping in air against the rotten scent in her nostrils. The feeling of drowning is prevalent, but she has the sense of mind to flail back toward the shore.

By necessity she winds up shoving the male that way, too, but she doesn't care. Her wounds are ripped open, and she can barely drag herself out of the pool. She shivered in the open air, at the cold water pouring over her. Essie doesn't know how she was still moving; her tremors were just getting worse, but she hadn't yet collapsed.

A glance back showed her opponent barely awake, nearly dipping beneath the surface again. There was a part of her that hissed, good. She wants to walk away and let him drown.

Saoirse suspects that was her father talking.

Instead, she turned, as best she could; grateful he was at least still close to the edge, she reached for his scruff, used every ounce of strength she had left to drag him out. Her mouth felt full of liquid when she dropped him, but whether it was her blood or his, she couldn't be sure.

There, She panted, finally wavering and letting her legs collapse underneath her. Saoirse didn't even try to avoid falling on top of him, though her sense of the world was fading so quickly she couldn't be sure whether she had or not. Now even if you kill me, you have to go back and tell my father I'm nothing like him.

She was better than what she'd come from.

There is a horrible ringing in her ears, the world is spinning and dark and she cannot feel the rain—but that doesn't stop her from hearing his words. Every wound on her body throbs with each heartbeat; she feels sick, can smell nothing but blood and rotten water, and something like horror and elation creeps up her throat.

Cedar Pike...was destroyed? She disregarded the comment of spy, its context irrelevant to her, hearing only what she wanted to hear. If her home has been destroyed...her family is dead.

There is only one left who would hunt her.

Saoirse thinks she might cry. She thinks she might laugh until she blacks out. This whole situation is horribly, horrifically stupid, only made more so when he continues. There is so much bitterness in the air between them, and she can't believe this stroke of misfortune has led them to direct it toward each other.

Blacklight. The name is entirely unfamiliar, and though that wouldn't normally matter—her father was a warmonger, she could surely lay the blame of countless fallen packs at his feet—she cannot help her suspicion.

...Were they north of here? Because there is a chance. There is a chance she will at least die for an overdue apology, but something tells her this is all much dumber than that.

She cannot even see him, can barely hear him. The shock of the rain works to drown the world, and she is quickly losing her grasp on the feeling of the earth beneath her. She doesn't even hear his actual words, in the end; the tone sounds like a denial, like continued anger, and that is all the confirmation her addled mind needs.

Everything hurts so badly, but she laughs anyway. It's a weak, broken noise, and her chest shudders as though she were sobbing as well, but most of all it is hysterical, uncontrollable, and growing louder the longer she cannot stop herself.

I'm so sorry, Shige, She thinks, and the laughter goes on, and on, and on, until everything stops.