Bitterroot Valley feels like we only go backwards

Zamael shook his head hastily, desperately, reaching back toward Alarian. "Alarian, no, I don't want to leave again," he insisted, beginning to panic once more as his brother rose to his paws. "Please, I promise--" His words died as Alarian took off, a blur of grays and blacks, browns and creams. Breathing hard, Zamael got up to follow him. . .

But he was long gone, always the faster of the pair. Zamael broke into a fresh set of sobs, hanging his head and letting the tears fall this time to the ground, like rain. He knew he had to find out where his brother went, but the energy had left him quite suddenly, and he sank back down, curled into himself, voice a desperate, wordless whimper.

This wasn't how it was supposed to be. He was supposed to make everything right. Now, it seemed like he had done exactly the opposite of that--and perhaps worse. What if Alarian never wanted to see him again? What if he never saw his little brother again?

Zamael cried for a while, unable to do much else. After a few hours, he rose to his feet and began to pace the plains restlessly, head full of thoughts he didn't want.