Broken Antler Fen well I'mma go down on a railroad track

She knew how long it had been. Maybe not with the specificity, since she did not think to count the moons as they came to glow overhead; no, Ibis counted the months in the form of bodies pressed to her own.

Teya in the moonlight.
The coywolf later on.
Penn, when the need became too great.

Desperation wrought each moment. They were greedy moments stolen when Akavir's back was turned. He had not been there and so Ibis had found comfort wherever she could; was that wrong of her to do, when months in the life of a wolf could mean so much?

The timbre of his voice cut through her, mirroring her own words. Ibis' eyes dropped to the flyaway fringe of his coat, watching the wind tremble across it, no longer holding the desire to touch him.

He straightened, she tensed. An explanation followed, deepening the guilt Ibis already felt. She had a nagging feeling to run, now. To go back to her den, to her daughters — her precious boy — knowing they were still alone, in need of her. What would Akavir do when faced with their little bodies? She could not move.

Who is he? Came the final accusation, falling solemnly from Akavir's lips. For a moment Ibis did not understand; she did not think her husband would want to know about her son, which was the only man in her life now. The auspex raised her eyes and saw the gilded hurt in Akavir's face, which revealed a deeper meaning.

The only answer she could give was a shake of her head. No one; she had no one but her children, and they would never leave her. Her lip trembles but she draws a breath and tries to steady her nerves, searching for words — for anything to remedy this — and finds a deep trench of shame that wants to devour her.

Its only me.