Noctisardor Bypass raserei

Wylla did not speak back. Laurel realised then that Wylla had never come here in search for a pack. In search for comrades. She'd come here only for Mahler, to rip him away from the wolves that he had invited into this new home, to take away the second start that he had wanted here. His mind had been so lost and hung up on her that he would do anything for her. Once more, Laurel saw the simplicity in how men worked. She couldn't blame Wylla. After all, she got everything that she wanted; why would she care if Mahler betrayed anyone else that he knew or loved in some way.

He did not even comment on most of what she said. He simply turned to leave.

He even told Sequoia to take her children and leave.

He literally told them to betray Laurel, too; to leave her here, alone, where he knew she would die.

You would go so far as to tell my only remaining friend to leave me here, unable to hunt, to die a slow and painful death? she said at Mahler, incredulous. I thought — She shook her head, the anger dissipated from her face. All that was left was the incredulous surprise that once more — You trusted a man again, dearest, and see where it lead you. I told you that I'm the only one who truly cares for you. Mahler, we were surprised! We didn't know they were coming. That's why we lost, not because we fought and lost. With your friends at Duskfire by our side, it will be a completely different fight! But he had already closed his ears and eyes to any possibilities. She could see that.

Laurel grit her teeth as Mahler said he had nothing left. That he was sorry. Laurel knew it was just a lie. If he was truly sorry, he would choose a different path. He would try. He would care about his pack; he would care about his friend. Don't apologise if you're not sorry, she said lowly as he said he had nothing left. At least look me in the eye when you willingly condemn me to die. I deserve that much from someone I thought cared about me. Her gaze said how dare you, with indignity, with anger, but behind all of that was the hurt of the abandoned child from the torn family, of the woman who had come to Rivenwood with nothing left, the woman who would welcome death, who'd trusted him, who'd grown fond of him, who'd thought maybe, just maybe, she could have a friend again.

And now he stood here, telling her only other friend to abandon her to die. Telling a fake apology, while he could not even look her straight in the eye.

Then he turned, without further message. Sequoia and Druid had already stated their intentions to stay, which emboldened Laurel somewhat, glued back a few of the pieces of her fractured heart, but not enough of them to stop her from bolting after him.

Well, she tried, at least, forgetting her shoulder for a moment and falling to the ground as Mahler and Wylla turned away. Laurel scrambled to her feet — too fast, too painful, a shock surging through her body — for she would stand tall as she watched these cowards abandon their pack. She would stand tall as she watched Wylla take away both Mahler and Laurel's second beginnings, here, in Rivenwood. Don't walk away from us, she sharply called after them. At least say it like it is, Mahler! Don't leave me here with your fake apologies! At least own up to the fact you're letting one of your pack mates and friends die without even trying!

He would not be deterred. He just kept walking.

Had he ever truly cared for her at all? Was it just in her head? Was it all a part of his little play to attempt to be a great leader to a pack, to attempt to redeem himself for whatever had happened in his past, an attempt that had miserably failed?

These thoughts swirled through Laurel's head as she watched him leave. She choked back a sob as she could feel the overwhelming emotions threaten to overtake her, but she had to be strong now. She had to think of her children.

She shouted after him as he was almost out of view now, not even showing any signs of listening to her poisonous words — I HATE YOU! YOU ARE THE ONE WHO DESERVES TO DIE! Words she did not mean, perhaps, not in the deepest of her heart, but she shouted them into the remnants of their pack nonetheless.

It was Sequoia who managed to get Laurel back on her feet with her quick affirmation that they would stay. Laurel looked at her and Druid, the indignant grief sliding off her features and replaced by something akin to gratitude. Sequoia owed her nothing, and yet she would stand with her. Thank you, she said quietly.

She had to go to Ursus, that much Laurel knew, but how? How would she get back her children? Maybe she should simply grovel before Merrick and accept whatever humiliation and possible death to get the chance at seeing her children again.

For now, though, Laurel was so tired. She just wanted to rest. She just needed a break. From life. From everything. She was tired of pursuing happiness, because it always blew up in her face. Maybe going to Ursus would not be the worst idea — but maybe not to grovel, but to finish what she had started in that cave.