Hushed Willows tomorrow never comes until it's too late

Up to you whether Akavir notices her or not!

The Harbinger was gone. Twice Mae had pursued his trail; twice she'd come to the same place at the edge of a great cliff overlooking the water. Twice she'd realized that the man was likely dead, and still she did not want to accept it.

She'd become a ghost along the outskirts of the pack's land. Mae lingered near the borders, filling the caches nearby but never venturing far beyond. No one would chase her off, she knew that. This had been her place before it was any of theirs. But part of her didn't even want it anymore; she stayed because she couldn't bring herself to abandon Reverie, not now.

Not that she'd spoken to the woman. Mae still couldn't bring herself to apologize properly. Instead she orbited the gilded wolf who had saved her life from a safe distance, always near but always just out of reach. It was easier that way — until it wasn't.

Until her father showed up at the borders.

She'd figured that someone would get there before she did, if only because the sound of his voice had frozen her in place for a time. It'd been weeks since she'd invited him here. At some point, Mae had stopped expecting him to come. But he was here now. He was here for her. She wasn't sure how to feel about it.

Eventually she found it in herself to trace a path to where he'd called from, though she found nothing there but his scent mixed with Reverie's. I hope I don't gotta break up a damn fight. She followed their trails slowly, half-expecting to hear yelling at any moment. Mae knew there was history there, a bad history.

What she didn't expect was to stumble into a conversation. Mae sucked in a breath and ducked behind a small rise in the earth without a second thought. And we can be there to help them heal. It was the kind of corny bullshit she'd come to expect from Reverie. But what were they talking about? Was this about her?

She held her breath as she listened, intent on finding out.