Deepwood Weald aquvatigun

In the early days, Dutch had wondered if Ariadne might come to try and reclaim the pack from him. These thoughts had troubled him on a number of levels, but not for several months by then. For there was nothing of Moonsong left to be found in Morningside; the had quietly dropped even the suffix from their name, and now there was only Dutch to represent the pack that Ariadne had led.

Time had healed most of his hurt over it, too. But there was still a twinge of old and new discomfort in his chest at the sound of her voice — of his name in her voice, just like when she would call him to eat with her or otherwise converse. And he realized that there was a part of him that loved her, and then he felt silly for not seeing it sooner.

Why else should he have been so heartbroken?

It was fresh in his mind when he appeared to her.

"Ariadne," he said to her — cordial, if not quite warm. But he did not call her cloud woman. They were past this, he thought. Past honorifics.