Seaside Moors Longs for sun and lays in the dark

It was true, Raleska had been terrible at keeping in touch.

Like the child gone off to college, she was largely MIA -- save for the occasional deposit of food or trinkets outside the den. She had mostly avoided everyone -- and it was not their fault; Raleska had bruised herself on the edges of the world, and was nursing her wounds in isolation.

She could not remain reclusive forever -- and she knew this. She knew this before she caught Rosalyn's scent on the wind, before she saw the matriarch with her determined single eye, and that curious step: surely, she was seeking none other.

Drawing to a halt Raleska turned and regarded Rosalyn -- first with a customary terseness that melted away to vulnerable and despairing love.