Redhawk Caldera Stray away from the forces that make you

They weren't enough.  Either he didn't get it or he was somehow a much better wolf than she was, because she'd resolved next time she saw Penn, she'd drive him off herself.  (Lucky for him, she was hardly capable of it now).  Then again, she knew he was a better wolf than she was.  He always had been.

There was a terrifying truth in the fact that when wolves disappeared for her, she didn't have the choice or the privelidge of following.  A trail only worked so long as the pursuer kept up, and as soon as a wolf was out of earshot, they were essentially gone.  It had been so easy for Penn to leave her in the dust that day and for her family to do the same, likely assuming she'd gone with him.  She'd been left in the pouring rain with two trails gone cold and absolutely nothing left.  

She never wanted to live her life afraid of losing anyone or anything, so instead, she made sure she never cared enough to worry about it in the first place.  With her family it was easy, but Bronco made it damnably hard.  And when she thought he'd died on her... something snapped.  She hit the exit switch fast, ejecting herself as quick as she could from something she refused to explain or acknowledge.

She wasn't Penn, but she understood him now.  And even with understanding, she still hated him for what he did.  That's why she found it hard to believe that Bronco didn't hate her.

Either way, it didn't matter.  She couldn't go back, so he was rid of her regardless.  Fennec stayed listlessly where she was, lacking the energy to even turn towards him or make a comment to counter.  She did idly note that despite the chatter, he seemed to be doing better in here.  Too bad she'd already given the den away; if he did manage to overcome the fear, he'd have to fight Leta for it.  If she'd have known, she might have waited.  It was always meant to be his and Meerkat's.

Finally, after a couple of beats of quiet, she let out a pained breath.  Doesn' matter.  She answered quietly, a dull defeat lacing the words.  There wasn't even any bitterness to drip from them.  She was exhausted.  Can't - go back.  That familiar heartsick despair was clearer now, probably because one of the main inspirers of it was standing here listening while she said it.  The words were a white flag, though things were hardly less awkward now.