Overture Downs but if I keep going crazy like this

That the woman adjusted herself to head in his direction, too, was mystifying. Did she recognise him? Did they truly know one another? Although he hoped it to be true, lest he is forced to consider that his age may have finally started to affect his mind, he did not rely so heavily on that hope; for any number of reasons, any wolf might approach another, whether they are familiar with each other or not. Still, something about her struck at something deep within him, urging a memory to the forefront of his mind. He could feel his body tense, legs stiffening momentarily as the distance between them lessened—minimised to a point where he could better see her, noting the unusual, faded marks that adorned her petite frame.

Ah, there it is—the memory he sought, its forceful entrance into his head bringing him to an abrupt stop.

“Little warrior?” he questioned, eyeing her carefully. Could it truly be her? After all this time? He could only vaguely recall their last encounter, yet their initial stuck out in his head like a rusty nail, threatening to embed itself into his very core. He had never hurt her, had never even truly considered doing so, and yet… he was ashamed. Ashamed of how he had acted, intruder or not—ashamed of what the woods, the Brotherhood, had led him to do. Hardly did Kove think back to those times now, devoted to Easthollow and his family, but seeing Star was enough to drag everything back into the spotlight. She had trespassed, and he could remember using that to justify his actions, but now he doubted himself; she should have been run out or killed, as any other may do in defense of their home, but instead, the wolves of the woods had tortured her. And while he took solace in recalling his lack of contact with her body, he knew vaguely of what had been done to her.

And he regretted, even to this day, that he had not gone against Meldresi’s wishes in order to kill the brute that had tormented her so.

Kove did not take another step towards her, choosing to keep a nice cushion of space between them—she would want that, wouldn’t she? He couldn’t recall having ever gotten close to her, and used that as reasoning enough to stay away now; there was a reason behind the lack of touch in his memories, he was certain. He left for her the space she would need to flee, even, should she wish to do so.

He could not blame her, if she did.