Moonspear the smallest steps bring about the most lasting change.

I still shouldn’t have left. She’d hated herself for it for nearly a year, and had wished she could take it back more times than she could really put words to. She’d hated herself for it so much, in fact, that it had been impossible to imagine he wouldn’t hate her too.

Being alone was worse. When I couldn’t find you, I went to mom instead. I figured if you went anywhere, you’d go there. Even if you didn’t want to talk to me, at least then I could try and apologize. She cut off, tucking her ears back and hugging in even tighter.

She still didn’t understand why he hadn’t come sooner if he had forgiven her. But she didn’t care. Months of slow guilt had turned into a few weeks of outright misery, but now she had finally at least apologized. There wasn’t anything else she could do, and even with it, and even with his apparent forgiveness, a part of her wondered if things would be the same… if he would trust that she was sorry, that she wouldn’t make the same mistake again.

If he would stay.

She didn’t think so. Fig from before wouldn’t have gone weeks without seeing her after months spent apart. Fig from before wouldn’t have opened the option of leaving. She hated how much she selfishly mourned the loss of what they had. Fennec had been the one to light it on fire in the first place.