The Bracken Woods we were diamonds, now we’re dust

Some deer had forged a trail through the underbrush, which Masque discovered and began to follow. The scents were old, though she continued wending along it for a while. It carried her roughly eastward, sometimes curving a little south only to double back. The forest grew darker around her, the trees growing more closely together the further she ventured.

She hit the point where she knew she needed to turn around, lest she expend too much energy and wander too far from home. It was still a little strange to think of Nova Peak that way—Masque still ached not only for Redtail Rise but now Shadewood as well—but it had a lot more to do with Riley than any particular location. He was home.

Abruptly, she found herself face to face with Mulherin. She jolted in surprise at finding him here again. What were the odds? She corrected herself mentally: he had found her. But what did semantics matter? Masquerade’s lips parted on a small gasp. Before she could doubt herself or worry about how she might be received, she ran toward him.

Her body dipped low in apology as she neared him, little whimpers of joy escaping her. She rushed right up to him, then hesitated to touch him, no matter how badly Masquerade wanted to grab him into a hug. Mulherin might not want that. He might not want anything to do with her at all. But he was here. He had found her. That had to mean something.

Feeling the pressing need to speak first, Masque whined, I’m so sorry, Mul. I’m sorry I left without saying anything.