Emberwood [m] Oh Ophelia, you've been on my mind, girl, since the flood

She called his name, and he wished he could sink into the earth. To have her see him like this! To hear of what he'd done! But she already knew, surely, and she was here for what he had done - surely here, for the deeper evil he had done to her, against the entire pack.

In hurting himself, he had sinned against the pack. In hurting Reverie, he had sinned against her. In hurting all, he had sinned against the Singer Himself.

Everett knew He had forgiven him the moment he'd cried out and turned his heart against what he had done - the ugly, the cruel. But forgiveness did not negate the consequence of what his actions wrought.

He would seek forgiveness from those he had wounded, find restoration where they would let him, and face every consequence like the man the Singer still taught him to be.

So when she came, he did not run. He listed his eyes to her and met her face for a moment, though soon he shied his glance away.

Reverie, he said, and the words crashed through him. Where streams of sentences usually came, there was only a repeated confession. I hurt you, he said softly, I hurt you, and everyone.

It didn't matter that he had felt his parents against him, too, when she had snapped at his face, that his exhaustion prevented him from thinking before reacting. Reasons were reasons, but he'd still done what he'd done. He still bore the blame.

I'm so, so sorry.

Those four words were the base of a mountain, with heights to scale. He had fallen so far. Would she let him unpack the rocks that had fallen across the path to the top? Would she trust him enough to share her side, and clear them, too, so they could both stand on the heights again?

He hoped so. He doubted. He looked to get again.