Noctisardor Bypass Don't need additional lives.

Anselm's composure lasted him just long enough to be out of Heda or Etienne's earshot -- and then, for the first time in a long time, he cried.

There was nothing cathartic or manly about it; no sweet release from the choking snot that cloyed his nostrils, or the ugly way his throat seized and muzzle twisted. He looked hideous -- and he felt it.

Shortly thereafter Anselm gradually steadied himself, wiping the dampness from his eyes.

Still, he could not stop replaying all that Etienne said. It made him shrivel inside to learn Etienne had been hurting alongside him all this time, and he had added fuel to it. He hated himself worse now, for knowing he'd caused the seaborn deep strife -- and worse, refused to acknowledge or apologize for it.

I'm hurting too, he grit between his teeth. Everyone was. He vacillated between deep empathy for Etienne (including soul-crushing guilt) and a strange species of survivor's outrage  -- at last settling on an exhausted apathy as he climbed a deerpath.

Suddenly, he found himself standing in front of the Grandfather tree. His lips twisted as he stared at it, laughing bitterly to himself. Not Grandfather -- Sequoia.

For the first time in his life, he almost sympathized with his parents and wondered if this kind of emotional conflict was what drove them away.

don’t mind if I doooo

Suzu returned to Rivenwood with a pheasant- one which had attempted the “broken wing” distraction in order to lure her from the bird’s nest, but when at last she made a move, it ended up blundering into thick brush; like her net in the bay, the bird was caught. Suzu was no stranger to wrangling tangled prey.

She meandered through Rivenwood, and at first she didn’t notice Anselm, until bitter laughter caught her attention. She gazed toward him, curious to see him looking at a tree with such an expression. From a distance, she didn’t know whether he was actually laughing, but from the tone of his voice, she suspected something was up. 

She hadn’t thought him capable of much humour; it snagged her curiosity. 

She drew closer and cleared her throat, peering over ruffled feathers at the man, one eyebrow arched as though to ask what gives? when she looked past him and realized what kind of tree it was. Her expression gentled; the cliffs were lined with them too, oh how she missed them!

A muffled sound drew his attention from the tree. Anselm turned, coming face to face with Suzu and a rather ruffled looking pheasant.

He was surprised to find her here, but remembered she’d offered to stay to protect her brother. He didn’t want her to see him like this, but it was too late.

Doing his best to disguise the dampness of his cheeks and the sorry state of his eyes, Anselm conveniently turned face to the tree so she could not see his expression.

Suzu. He acknowledged in a perfunctory tone, taking pains to study one of the many armed boughs in the canopy above.

As soon as he took notice of her, he turned away, so she could see the ruffled fur of his hindquarters, the hunch of his shoulders, and the back of his head. She scoffed and dropped the bird at her feet, opening her mouth so that she might make a comment about his rudeness- only to delay herself a moment now that she had the rare opportunity to scope out his hind end without him being able to say a thing about it. Sure, he was alright. A bit lean for her liking- but perhaps, she thought, lean guys were what Etienne was into. 

She moved to his side, looking back toward the towering tree again. "We 'ave ones like dis back 'ome," She said, trying not to sound too nostalgic. She was only here for Etienne and Heda, and it was no secret. "I used to wonder 'ow old somet'ing like dis might be, but- ah," She said with a sigh and a shrug. Trees couldn't talk.

It would have filled Anselm with a strange sense of ego to know his hind end was studied; as it was, he was too busy looking at the way the sky stubbornly broke through gaps of the leaf canopy. 

Anselm wasn’t interested in the tree the same way she was, but out of rare politeness, he tried to show some level of curiosity. Vhat kind of tree is it? He realized he knew nothing about trees — other than they often held various lives in them he could eat.

Anselm's interest in trees did not last very long. He was no good at small talk, and after a beat, asked Suzu if she'd like to hunt with him. The chase was what enlivened him, not the talk -- after an evening of hunting their larders were stocked with fresh kills.

Anselm slept soundly that night.