Jade Fern Grove the seeds of love have taken hold and if we don't burn together, i'll burn alone

After seeing her best friend with another woman, Adeline kept walking. She doesn't know why it bothers her but it does. The thought that Grayday belongs to her never crossed her mind until that moment. Every promise he made to her, every gentle word, none of them matter anymore. He never meant a single thing and had only coaxed her along and toyed with her. He'd taken her from her family on the idea of a big adventure (did she even want to go?) and then he laid a claim instead of returning to Easthollow (did she even want to stay?), and in her absence her father died (she should have been there).

Over and over the thoughts roll back and forth and she's never given any answers. She doesn't know how to answer them for herself. Death follows her around every corner from the moment she'd been born but it is not her parents death she remembers. She still feels it after all this time.

If she stayed in the cuesta, someone would die too, but it would be too easy to give him such an out. He deserves whatever happens to him.

Her jaw tightens and she slowly comes to a stop. There's no direction in her movements and it takes several seconds to realize where she is. The grove is mostly unfamiliar to her in passing but she'd been traveling through it for miles before recognizing nothing around her. She sighs, her limbs tired and her mind weary as she become aware that her body needs more than she cares to offer it.

He wouldn't have been able to sleep, anyway - not with all that he had on his mind - but the fresh scent of Adeline so near to where he and Khoe had mated was the final nail in that coffin. No, he would not be going to sleep. How could he?

Day was displeased, of course, but probably not as much as Adeline. She probably didn't want to see him - was probably quite embarrassed and maybe a bit disgusted. He wouldn't make her talk about it, but he did want to check up on her, see how she was doing. The girl had lost her father, and that couldn't have been easy. So he followed her scent. And followed it. And followed it.

And when he'd been an hour past the borders and her scent kept rambling on, Grayday began to run, his leg aching fiercely at the motion. But he couldn't stop - not when she was walking away - and the male ran until he reached the forest she'd gone into, were the trees were too close together to navigate quickly in the dark.

But he still walked on, bumping into trees when he wasn't being careful, his nose twitching as he tried to hold onto her scent. It was almost sunrise by the time he reached her.

"Where are you going?" he asked, his voice softer than he'd meant it to be. He wanted to yell, but he couldn't raise his voice at her. He couldn't.

Her eyes close while she fights back the tiredness resting there. If she can get comfortable, she can sleep for a little while. She hadn't run or sped up at any point but her legs burned as if she'd just finished a marathon. It dulls some of the pain she'd felt all at once now that she has something physical to focus on. What few plants she does know won't help her now and so she lowers her head to lick at her tired joints, trying to soothe the ache settling in.

The sky is only showing hints of morning when she feels a change in the air. It's thick with his desperation and her vile scent left behind. It makes the skin along her spine crawl and bristle well before she hears him crash in close and speak. To her. He lost those privileges some hours ago now and acid burns the pit of her stomach as she slowly turns to see his pale face.

He looks different now. Even in the dark, she can see that venom accentuates his features and he's lined with age. She can't help the laugh that bubbles at the front of her chest but she stifles it with a blow of air and shake of her head.

"Don't," she says, grinding her teeth together as she pauses. Every grief he has caused her has been wrapped neatly in a bow and disguised as love. She turned her back on her family to follow him and while she hadn't known why, she feels the weight of it now. "Stay away from me," she finally tells him, swinging her head back and continues despite the fire alight in her frame.

Shock briefly crossed his features at her firm rebuff. Had he done something? (What hadn't he done?)

"Adeline!" he said, unable to come up with anything else. When she pressed on, so did he, following doggedly after her. "Addie - " he tried again, but didn't get any further. He swallowed back a bitter mouthful of rising panic. "Addie, what's going on?"

Was this about Akuti, or was there something else going on? He thought - how could it be about her? - but at the same time, how could it be about anything else? Still, Grayday tried, hoping it was anything but jealousy, because that would mean he'd read all the signs wrong. It would mean he'd been waiting for something that could've been his. It would mean that he'd lost something he had longed for so ardently, something he'd never thought he could have.

"Is it - " Is it Steady? Please let it be Steady. "Running away isn't gonna bring him back, Addie. Don't leave like this."

He calls her name and she does not stop. He calls her name a second time and she falters. The third time she slows down but, still, she does not stop.

Is it—

Adeline’s chest seizes up and she comes to a stop, turning to face him again. It hurts to look at him. He’s supposed to be her family, he was all she had left and now there’s only a gash in her stomach where he’d ripped it all away from her.

“I’m not—” she says suddenly, tightening her jaw as she recollects what she wants to say. “I know. I know he’s not coming back. No one ever comes back.” Adeline is silent after that, her eyes hardening against his. She is not afraid to look him in the eyes anymore. Maybe if she had before, she would have seen through it all along. “You took me away from him and he died and he's gone and you're supposed to be there. You were supposed to be my family,” her voice croaks, choking over her own words to the point they may have been inaudible at points but the strain in her throat prevents her from keeping what little she has left together.

He wasn't prepared for the look she gave him - foggy through the film of his eyes, but clear enough in its repugnance. He faltered, stepped back as if she's struck at him, but still kept his eyes glued to her pretty face.

"I'm right here," he said, desperate, now. "And I'm sorry I took you away. I shouldn't have - " But how could I leave you? He swallowed back his excuses. "But I'm here, now, and we are family. How can you say we're not?"

How could she stand there and accuse him? How could she doubt his love when he'd burned for her for all this time? Hadn't he been patient? Hadn't he been nurturing? Hadn't he been kind? (Purposefully, he did not think of all the other things he had been. She'd been kept safe and hidden from those things - hadn't she?)

“No, you’re not,” she insists, eyes narrowing to try and see through him. The ache in her chest has not lessoned any even as she stands before him, ready to turn tail and leave. She had not run from the scene she’d witnessed, as one might have in her place, but there had been something holding her back. She wanted to see the look on his face and now that she has, she’d regret not putting more distance between them. His desperation hooks into her chest and pulls her in. How can you say we are?

As every other time before, she wants to scoop up beneath his nose and rest in his chest, feeling the comfort it has always bring her. It probably still smells like her and she’s terrified for a deeper breath. The remnants of her heat are still there, whether in her mind or still on his pelt, but it causes arise in bile from her stomach. She no longer wants to see the look on his face but she can’t help but spill more words while she’s frozen in place: “you can’t have everything, Grayday; you can’t have her and me.”

All at once, it hit him - he'd done a very wrong thing. He'd been making very wrong choices, had been living a very wrong life. She was so small, and still so young standing in front of him, telling him that he couldn't have both. Something he should've known. Something she shouldn't have to think about - certainly not about him. It was tragic. He'd made her tragic, and hurt, and alone. He taken from her; perhaps far more than she knew.

I'm supposed to be your uncle, he wanted to say, but he knew she'd think it an excuse, rather than something he was admitting to. I'm supposed to be your uncle, and I'm sorry I made you feel this way. He'd thought he hid it so well, but she'd known the things he thought of her, and it'd corrupted her until it turned them into this.

"I know," he said, and his voice sounded like a stranger's. He looked at her - he looked until it hurt - and couldn't find it in him to try and stop her any longer. She would be better off without him, and later on, he would admit that he'd be better off without her. At least for a while. At least until he could exorcise this demon from within him, this thing that'd grown until it enveloped her, too. "I'm sorry," he said, but the words felt cheap. And then, "I am your family, Adeline. Even if you don't want to be mine. I won't try to stop you, but you can always come back."

He does not try to put up a fight, does not come forward. He makes no effort to try and keep her with him and her ears plaster against the back of her head. His choice will always be her. It had never been here. Adeline closes her eyes to try and steel herself in his presence. The only thing she can feel is the tightness in her chest that threatens her lungs to seize and end there. It will be a less painful end but she forces a slow, steady breath from her nose instead.

“You were never my family,” she tells him, feeling the pain in the sentence with the same she wants to cause in him. It roils unsteadily in her stomach and she has to turn and clench her jaws. “Go be with your new one,” she adds, accentuating her childish features as her tone weakens, slowly turning from him. “I never want to see you again.” Her words are clipped and forced. With no added speed, Adeline continues her path north.

Day grit his teeth against all the words that wanted to come pouring out. Not even he could stop her name from slipping through the cracks. "Adeline - " he said, his voice desperate and wanting. Her words lanced through him, her deadening tone, the set of her shoulders - her face, one last time.

And then she had turned away, and Day forced his belly to the ground, his limbs tight and ready to leap after her, to follow, to beg. I will never stop loving you, he wanted to shout, but with sudden clarity, he recognized the true meaning behind the words.

I will do anything to keep you here.

He stared after her hazy form, blinking back hot, angry tears.