ai don fis disha spichen gona op

Emori’s jaws open to speak but she snaps her teeth together, realizing she didn’t have an answer.  The second question follows and it takes her by surprise.  To be a warrior again, to have a home, had not been in her plans.  Heda Emori kom Wingedakru in self exile, exile she controls.  To take shelter elsewhere and she loses it all; she loses her people.  

It is all she deserves.

She swallows the lump lingering in her throat.

“Yes,” she tells the wolf and she feels apart of her die and break away.  She hardens, jaw clenching, but she lifts it a notch to show she means her words.  She cannot repair the damage she left behind and she cannot continue to carry the wingedakru name behind her any longer.  Emori severs the tie.