Sun Mote Copse A runaway once more

     Embry felt her reaction before he saw it - the sudden, overt flux in their previously amorous mood. Like a flame in the wind, it was gone within the blink of an eye, lost to a portion of time and space that neither one could summon again. She wormed away from his paws with more agility than ever before, retreating with perceptible horror. He stood there for a few moments, sea-green gaze blinking in bewilderment, rather like a confused pup. Fear crawled into his once steady heart, beating once again with fervor. What had he done? I should have known. When she spoke, he could hardly hear a word. It was as though his world had been muted for the few, vital moments in which he connected the dots. Too early, Embry. You idiot, too soon.

     He immediately turned away. His expression was unreadable, stoic to the point of stone. He was angry, confused, emberrassed... and hurt. Yet he knew that all wolves had their own choice in relationships. That's just how things were, and he simply should have known better than to embark so early. He had brought this upon himself, he supposed. But he couldn't relent the congregation of feelings that now flooded his veins, encompassing his body in a firestorm of emotion. He couldn't speak but to utter a few, passive words before he began walking away. The environment was no longer as beautiful as it once had been. The silvery hues of grey and blue had turned into pale, desolate remnants of his respite. "I see."

     His paws started moving of their own accord, pushing against gravity with lead-like substance. His golden form was unreadable, an ill-defined mass of darkened auburn fur. He pointedly kept his face turned away; his pace always a step ahead or behind. He had never experienced love before, and up until now, he had never experienced the pain either. Sure, you could lose a family member and feel grief. But grief didn't just simply form within seconds - it was a long, somber process. Rage often associated with it. This type of pain was different. It lacked the core potentiality of anger that other grievances withheld. How could he hate something and love something? His whole world was turning around him. It took all he could muster not to run, as fast as his legs permit, from the fae. After all that had happened, he would not abandon her. It would take so much more to physically tear him away. But mentally he was lost, far from Feyre, in a place where he could be alone.