The Heartwood oh, adi, don't you know you're still number one?

When she crossed @Aditya's scent, Easy wanted to cry.

The Heartwood had burned long ago, and the new growth provided little in the way of physical shelter. Instead, she'd begun to dig her den deep under a charred and fallen tree at the edge of these two territories — so that they had the meadow to chase deer in, and the young woodland to stalk turkey and other small prey. Not much further stood a rich riparian zone, or something that would be once spring hit, at least.

It was perfect. It was just what she'd wanted.

It was so different from White Spine.

Would it be very different, raising children that were not Aditya's?

he couldn't run forever.

when aditya came across her, she was hard at work, digging a den.

digging a den.

he stopped, cleared his throat, squared his shoulders. fixed a soft gaze onto her figure.

ishara, he said gently. the weight of years rested upon each syllable.

The breeze brought her his scent. She told herself it was wishful thinking just to steal a few more moments of peace. Just to steel herself that much more, because she would need it, she always needed it —

Ishara.

She let out a long breath. Turned to face him and saw someone who was almost a stranger but was not, could never be. His face was more familiar than the faces of her family — all but their beautiful children. Yet he was changed, as he changed every year. A little more gray. A little less vigor.

A fear that had been growing in her for months by then was released in a startled little sob.

"You are late," she accused him, but this was more lament than anger. It was not his fault, she knew, but looking at him and seeing all these physical signs of his advancing age tore through all the poise she'd built up over the years. She came forward thinking she wanted to fight him, but knocking into him, it was clear she wanted only to be held.

"It was time and you weren't there," she cried into his chest, embarrassed already by this hormonal tantrum. But the tears were flowing, now.

It was really no wonder he never stuck around long.

he was ready for her. he held fast as she surged toward him, and took her into his embrace readily, absorbing her words, her tears.

i know, ishara, he murmured against her cheek, breathing deep, eyes downcast. maybe that is the point, though. easy—

aditya detached himself and backed away, looking at her. how many seasons had he known the girl? but not a girl now—a woman. perhaps dearest to him above all, besides his children.

besides—

ishara, you deserve better than me, adi went on. i have been telling you that for years. he nodded to the den. and you have found someone. . .?

He held her for a moment, and the black bear wilted like a flower in winter in his embrace. Aditya was the only one who saw her like this, who could return her to this state! But he pulled away and she remembered that she was not a flower, but a creature with a fiercely beating heart.

"I don't need someone else," she snipped. "And I don't need better because I do not wait for you because I need you."

She had been telling him this for years.

"I just see you in them," she said, her voice thick. "Even before they know you. I see you in them, and I see Sunny and Dawn in them, and Mirza, and Daddy — " Her tears returned, though she wiped them away with a slash of her paw. Even so, her next words came out watery: "And now they will be different."

And it was stupid to be so upset about this! She would love these children. Of course she would.

"What if they're ugly?" she demanded, because fuck she hated crying, and she hated that he could make her, even if it was only by being someone she could be vulnerable around.

He lingered, helpless, as she went on. And the last of her words were like a knife to his heart.

Ugly? Ishara, no child of yours could be ugly, he assured her. You are beautiful, and always have been. . .and all your children will follow suit.

It was to her credit, he thought, that their children had turned out as well as they had.

I've met Dutch here, he went on. He leads his own pack. And Eldest has a daughter—a princess, I think? Sired by some prince from some land? And our younger children thrive, but Easy—

He stepped forward then, meaning to place his muzzle upon her forehead—but if she retreated, he would relent. Still, though, he kept his hawkish gaze upon her face, pleading with her to listen.

Easy—you are an amazing mother, he insisted. Whoever has sired this litter doesn't matter. In fact, they're lucky. Because their children will have you.

There was a wicked glint in her eyes, but her joke didn't quite land. She was a little embarrassed then for making light of the matter — but of course she wouldn't have ugly children, and she was a little offended that Aditya would think this a true concern.

Perhaps she was being too harsh with him.

A breathy laugh escaped her when he began lauding their children, and she stepped into him instead of away while he went on being his stupid, annoying, insufferable self. She sniffled, thinking of her eldest son, who shared some of Aditya's stupidest and most insufferable qualities. Of Eldest, who was so much like her but still managed to remind her of Aditya all the same. Of Arya, just as poor of a fighter as his father, and of Mirza, as handsome as Aditya had been when they first met, and of little Jade who so loved the sea —

"Do you know that he's bounty hunting again?" she said of Dutch, disapproval in her tone. "And Madhu! Our princess. She's wandering loose." She jabbed a paw into his chest. "This is your blood, you know."

Dutch did this, too: his own faults could be erased from existence if it meant winning an argument.

"I just wanted it to be you," she said at last, resignation winning out over despair. "I love our babies."

I love you.

her paw into his chest might have been a missile into earth; he withstood it, but flinched all the same, and ducked his head, shaking it.

easy, he said, after she'd finished. i love them, too. but you deserve better than me, ishara—seriously.

he pulled away and took a step, or two, offsides. catching his breath; blinking back the tears.

easy, i'm sorry, adi murmured.

i love you.

This man!

"Stop apologizing!" she said, taking a step back herself. "I have done exactly what I meant to with my life, Aditya. I am fat and happy, I have children, a granddaughter — you can apologize to them, if you'd like to, but don't apologize to me. I am not your victim. I just — "

She breathed out a sharp huff. Of course he would apologize. When she was angry or upset, it must be at him, mustn't it? This had enraged her, once upon a time. Few things could accomplish that, these days.

"I am cranky and pregnant," she said, forcing a smile that showed up better in her eyes than on her dark muzzle. The latter quickly fell away. "I never asked you to stay with me," she said quietly. "With us. I won't pretend that wasn't to save us both the heartache. I won't pretend it worked perfectly, either. But I don't need your apologies. I don't want them."

each word, blow after blow after—

and he understood. truly, he did. but then, why had she come crying into his chest like she had. . .?

then what do you want from me, ishara? he asked. why are you sad that i wasn't there for you, in your heat? if you're so happy with yourself, why does it matter which man you take to your bed?

his frustration was beginning to grow, and he worked to tamp it down, jaw working with the effort.

i get that you're cranky and. . .and pregnant—but why did you think of me? why did you count on me to be there? easy, why did you think i'd be there when i've shown you year in and year out that i'd not be there?!

adi's eyes blazed hot fire, and he caught his breath, steadying himself.

This man —

"Because I am happy, Adi," she said, her teeth grit. There was an awful stitch in her throat. "And I am so proud of who our children have become, and they would not be the same if they weren't part of you. And now they are all gone — "

Her mouth trembled again. She looked skyward, trying to stave off more tears.

"And I want them back," she said to the clouds. She couldn't mourn her children, of course. They were alive and well, and she was proud of who they were, and who they were becoming. But she missed them so badly, and —

"Do you remember what it was like, after Morningside fell apart?" she asked him, still speaking to the heavens. Calmer, now. Melancholy. Peaceful, somehow. "I know you do. We're the only ones, Adi. Whatever else has happened — you've been my family these many years. And we made more, and they were perfect."

She looked back at him, a weak laugh in her throat.

"They are perfect," she corrected.

he heard her out. let each sentence wash over him like waves on the beach—crashing down, the surf spraying up—

let it all hit him like that.

he understood. but in a different way that she did.

they are perfect, he agreed. and you are perfect. but easy, i was never perfect. whatever legacy you think of morningside. . .it's got nothing to do with me. it's all you; it's all them.

he was walking away, detaching himself from her. heading back to dutch, to something he could grasp.

ishara, i love you, aditya said. and because i love you, i know that you deserve far better than me.

he hesitated. he wanted to embrace her then, to show her how much he loved her. to cement his skin forever against hers but—

hadn't he already? within their children?

she deserved better.

i will be with arjun, at his pack in morningsong, adi murmured. please visit.

turn tail, and he was gone—the coward that he was.

she deserved better.

This fucking man!

Easy felt a sinking, seething sensation in her chest as he, predictably, managed to take away nearly the opposite of what she'd meant. She saw it coming perhaps before he did, but she did nothing to stop him from turning tail. She watched him for a moment, devoid of expression, before exploding after him with a volley of furious barks:

"You can run, chutiya, but don't pretend it's because you know better than me!"

The volume and visceral way in which she'd shouted the words left her throat feeling torn — but it felt better to scream at him than to let herself cry any more tears. She would save them for the next time he showed his stupid face.

"Asshole!" she shouted after him, and then she swung around and went back to furiously digging her den.