Broken Antler Fen Indigo

Had Wraen known, how many of Brecheliant men were vying for her favour and affections, she would have felt honoured, indeed. Who would have known that at five years of age she would have thrice as more suitors as in the whole of her lifetime? But, since she had shelved all dreams and ideas of matrimony, intimate relations and having a family a long time ago and accepted the idea of holy spinsterhood to the end of her days, she lived in a content oblivion. Now and then Arcturus would cross her mind - it pained her to see him betting all his life on an empty lottery ticket and she often wondered, what else could she do to make him see, how pointless it all was. Yes, there was her fault in this too - though she had told him openly that she saw him as a friend not as a lover, she had given him hope. One day at a time. But it had been then - when their days had been closely knit together. Now... with the pack and everything else happening inbetween, he was distant, she was away and their conversations were sporadic and rare. And no seedling - be it an actual plant or a metaphor for a budding relationship - can grow on willpower alone. It needs sunlight, it needs water. It needs care and nurture. It needs time and devotion. If there had been even the slightest chance, it had wilted away by now.

Therefore Wraen found it easier to make and keep friends, who did not expect anything else from her, save for good company and adventures to share. Thinking all this and other pleasant things, she walked alongside Tambourine - contemplative and smiling.