Qeya River But you can do a kindness and look me in the eyes

Etienne had traveled from the side of his sister. Part of him had wanted to see the wolf @Cambria again. He had been kind to the sea born and he liked that. He hoped at the very least they could be friends. But in his travels he came across a scent that ran his blood cold and hurt his chest. And then it made him so angry he felt hot all over.

Golden Eyes flashing, he had told himself Anselm had not left. He had told himself he would never. But here the scent of the mountain born love of his life was thick and heavy. Where he had left his scent. He had rubbed his fur and his claws along this border. And he had left the children to die!

Etienne howled, the true fury of his nature in the winding lyrical call that went for the man with sunset eyes. How dare @Anselm. How dare he. Leave when Druid was dead and Heda was, well heda was a fallen woman. But that was no never mind. Etienne was furious with her too. What about Druid's CHILDREN.

He paced along the borders , unbridled fury in each step. Tears pricking at the back of his eyes. This was not the man he had fallen in love with. Why would he leave?

A howl so unmistakably Etienne froze Anselm in his tracks. He stifled a gasp, steadying the quiver of his limbs as he made for the border.

Etienne. His eyes grew dark, but even still he could not help the faint quickening of his heart. So much had changed. So much hurt between them. Years and days and weeks of buried hurt and buried feelings that he could not yet hold witness.

And there was the matter of Heda, and Ezra -- the latter which Anselm missed terribly. The former only shrouded his heart with thorny pain. He felt shame, too, to think of them and know he'd let them both down.

But Heda had chosen this life - hadn't she? He wondered how fat and content Amadeo must be, sucking the resources of Rivenwood dry like a spring tick.

Anselm slowed to a stop a long distance away, guarded. There was too much at stake for him to possibly speak his mind.

Etienne stared and his heart hurt. A softly stifled gasp but kept it to himself as best he could. What could he say or do. There was thr matter of Anselm's fire filled words. Of how he hated Etienne for what he was or so it seemed.

He lifted his head. Anger on his face. I do not want to believe it Anselm. So you tell me wut 'as 'appened? 'Eda came looking for Gideon. Goldfinch is all by 'erself. 'Eda left that baby all by 'erself! W'y do you two do dis! Wut 'as 'appened.

Tears pricked at his eyes. And he made as if to move forward but stopped unsure. So he sat between two longings. To run and embrace or to run and forget . But he had to know more.

You look like you been 'urt

Anger. 

It was the first of many emotions Anselm sensed; could taste. It was bitter like rock salt and bile. 

His expression remained guarded, the scowl deepening as Etienne indirectly accused him of something he would never do willingly. And as he listened, he knew Heda had not searched for him. 

Just her son. 

Gideon is vith me. Anselm started, for that was the most important aspect — but so much else of what Etienne had just spoken sent his head spinning. 

To be accused of leaving voluntarily turned his heart curling as paper does to a flame; blackened, disintegrating. Vhat do you mean Heda left? Rivenvood?  Vhy? And what about Druid — where was she to take on her children? Is Ezra safe? He could not put it past Amadeo to kill his children, too. In that regard he was grateful to be reunited with at least one of them. 

He scoffed. Of course I am hurt. You have Amadeo to thank for that. Shame mingled with hate in his tone, and a veil of hurt crossed his face he hoped was too fleeting for Etienne to notice.

Etienne was more hurt than angry. And he was anxious and he didn't know what to do. And as such he shifted from foot to foot torn between running to Anselm and giving him a hug whether he wanted it or not or chasing after Heda.

Etienne sighed. I sorry I accused. Dey words dey came out before I be tinkin' I Been searc'in' for you and it 'as been much turmoil. Unsure wut I would find and if I even should be lookin' for you. I know it is not my place, but I could not believe it. Would not and yet I accused.

Etienne felt tears fall now. Druid die. Dey sickness got 'er. I do not know w'y 'eda left. 'Er go by dif name now but I do not know it. 'Er left dey babies be'ind!

Etienne could not forgive this.

Ezra is wit' 'eda.

Etienne took a step forward then backed up and he hung his head and closed his eyes. Took a breath.

Amadeo is not good wolf. 'Eda is takin' Ezra to a big hunt. I will be dere. I can tell Ezra you are 'ere if you want because 'e asked and so did 'eda. But I 'ad no answers. My leader did not eit'er. But I will let you alone now dat I be knowin' you is safe. You told me to leave you be and I did not. But I will now if you be likin'

It killed him to say it. But Anselm had told him repeatedly to go to leave him alone and he jad disregarded his words. And in a way that was disrespectful.

Many mixed emotions sloshed around in Anselm, like a badly mixed cocktail on the cusp of overpouring. 

Etienne shifted from foot to foot. Tears — evoking an unwelcome sense of empathy in Anselm — began to matt the healer’s cheeks. 

H-how? He asked of Druid first, eyes widening as he thought of the worst. Not Amadeo, a sickness. The sickness from before. He recalled Druid had only months before taken a leave of absence out of abundant caution. Surely not — surely she had not… 

He swallowed. Fuck. But then Etienne shared something that cast the slenderest candle’s worth of light upon what was a sorrowed situation. Ezra was with Heda. Hearing him say this and then vilify Amadeo in the next breath was validating, invigorating, and vindicating. He knew Amadeo was trouble. He knew it the moment he’d caught that greasy fuck lurking outside of his children’s den. 

The hunt. Anselm had all but forgotten it. Forgetting how cruelly he’d treated Etienne, Anselm supplanted himself before him in a gesture of alms. Etienne. Please — He begged, refusing to let the stinging in his eyes become tears: vatch Ezra for me. I cannot travel in this state. Gideon needs me here. Vhat of Amadeo? Has he gone vith Heda?

Etienne did not know what was worse. The fact that no matter what he did he always came back to this place, to this wolf. He threw himself into a tailspin of emotions and followed him like a starving mongrel followed a bone. Always and yet he could not stop himself. Or the fact that he may have to force himself to stop.

Etienne did not share that it had been poison that had been Druids undoing at first. But he could not hide this truth from Anselm even if he looked upon him with cruelty.

De disease began to take 'er and 'er refused to give it de satisfaction so 'er asked me for poison just for 'er. I told 'er I did not agree wit' dis. Dat dere were otter ways. But 'er did not believe me. So I gave 'er wit 'er wanted. 'Er just go to sleep. I do not know doug' were it de sickness dat took 'er or dey poison 'er asked for. But I know 'er is gone. Possibly by my paw. And I 'ate myself for it. The last part whispered soft and sad.

Anselm begged of him a favor. A favor that Etienne loathed for it meant he would need to speak with Heda. That he would need to face a wolf he both pitied and hated. But for the mountain wolf on front of him he could do it.

I do not know w'ere Amadeo 'as gone. I do not even know if Druid bit anyone on de pack.

A shiver of dread. What if she had bitten Heda. What if Heda went crazy at the pack hunt. A cold fear knocked him breathless.

I will watc' Ezra w'en I can, but 'eda. 'Er 'ad dead eyes, Anselm. Dey were flat and cold. Dey were not 'ers. I do not know if 'er will let me near 'im. Someting bad 'appened at de Bypass and I do not know wut it was.

Though Etienne did not see it that way, Anselm found poisoning a doomed wolf incredibly pragmatic. Cut the rot by the stem, before it infected the flower. You had to. She could have killed them if you did not. The tone was far from reassuring, but condemnation was entirely absent from the gold glint of Anselm’s eyes.

A shiver ran the full length of his body at Etienne’s final words. Something terrible had happened, and Anselm knew exactly who. Yeah. Amadeo. He grit his teeth. Which was worse? That snake loose out in the wilderness, or tucked to Heda’s side like a siphoning leech?

And moreover how did Anselm feel about Heda, learning her soul had gone rudderless and her eyes flat?

He vacillated between savage indifference and anger. Heda had chosen Amadeo over him. She purportedly hadn’t even gone looking for him, which stung Anselm so deeply he could not form words to express it. He felt demeaned by Amadeo’s rough handling and forceful exile — but it was Heda’s ultimate indifference that made Anselm wish to dissolve into absolute nothing.

It had all been for nothing. Those hard months in the bypass. The fraught but tentative interactions. He’d never wanted this life , but he had done it for them. Now he knew there was no purpose to being loyal, for it had earned him nothing but betrayal and loss.

You said they vould be at the hunt?

Etienne did not know if the words reassured or horrified. And he was too emotional at the moment to properly think. So he tucked them away for a different. Whether they brought him comfort or condemnation he would see later.

Etienne gave a soft shrug. He did not know. Perhaps Amadeo, perhaps Druid. Perhaps none of them and it just fell apart. Glaukos could have come back. No one knew but Heda amd she wasn't talking.

Etienne did not know if Heda had looked for Anselm. Because it had been Ezra that spoke at the creeks borders not Heda. And for which Etienne was grateful for he did not know if he could have handled her.

A small shake of his head. I be tinkin' so. Akavir told dem of it. But dat was before 'eda 'ad seen me. 'Er did not seem 'appy to see me and of course I wasn't 'appy to see 'er. It is goin' to be near de Great Bear a place called Firefly Glen. Many wolves will be dere. I will watc' for dem amd speak wit' dem and return to you. Or I will see you dere. W'ic'ever you prefer.

Long after Etienne shrugged and spoke, Anselm was silent. 

Ruminating. So many little paths had lead to this moment. At what hour had it all began to become undone? Anselm could not say. Did it happen when he first met Etienne? Or did his ruination come much earlier, when one selfish act lead to another?

The face before him held years of quiet suffering, of emotions spent and unspent. Those eyes had seen much of unfairness, selfishness, pure pigheaded stupidity. And yet, Etienne was willing to extend personal favors to the man who had all but kicked him in the ribs while he was down. 

Anselm looked away, suddenly flooded with shame. He had no right to ask Etienne for anything, and he certainly deserved even less. When Etienne had been made and whatever power it was had crafted him to be generous and kind, it had done exactly the opposite for Anselm — extracting every last bit of goodness and charity out of him. 

I vill come. Not to meet Heda again, but to reunite his children. And though he dared not say it or think it too openly — to see Etienne.

There was a heavy silence between the two. A silence that pervaded and fell like a shawl over their shoulders. A silence that spoke of things not spoken, that possibly would never be. And Etienne felt it curl into his chest and squeeze.

Every little trickle turned into a roar and every little movement fluttered and the world turned. And that was the life they led. Each moment had led them here. And here was well crap honestly. So many hurt feelings and sour feelings and pain and anger. And Etienne didn't know his head from his tail. But he was here. That counted for something right.

Den I be seein' you dere.

Etienne offered him a soft smile. I'd give you a 'ug but you probably don't be wantin' one. So I will see you soon.

A dip of his muzzle.

To Anselm, that silence felt like an anvil — and his soul was bent over it, stretched like flame-pressed billet. Each spanning second was the hammer’s strike: how much more could his soul take?

He looked away in shame. He did not deserve such a friend. He did not deserve Etienne. 

I vill see you there. He should have reached for the hug, but he couldn’t. He feared that momentary embrace would be enough to weaken his senses and allow all those tormented feelings to outpour. So instead of answering he only managed a weak smile that did not warm his face. Thank you, Etienne. 

But it was then he heard the howl of Sun Eater, and pained, made his leave.

It was not the first time he owed Etienne everything.