Dragoncrest Cliffs But I won't pray, I've made my grave and I'll sleep in it

forward dated a bit

She'd waited until their scent was a ghost of its former presence before coming here.  It was a trip she'd needed to take, however crazy it might be, before whatever children came.  

Slowly she walked through the forests, gazing at this place in the light for the first time.  Just a place, like any other.  And a familiar one too.... she'd stood on these cliffs before, she knew, back when the wolves here hadn't found this coast yet.

Her primary feeling when she heard the news that they were gone was anger.  They'd invalidated her insistence that they were a threat, and now she looked as crazy as she'd felt these past months, railing against an enemy who in the end had done exactly as Caiaphas predicted.  It was a bitter pill to swallow.  For all she and Firefly's worries, all her attempts to mitigate a war, all she'd done was proven that scared little girl who she used to be was not as far gone as she had thought.  Five years and she could still remember her clearly.

The pirate didn't stop until she had reached the place they held her.  Her fur lifted as she passed through the tunnel into the cove, but no sentries leapt out at her.  She was alone.

She sat down before the ocean and closed her eyes, willing her breathing to even.  The ocean scent ruled on the breeze, crisp and clean.  They really were gone.

What he did was foolish. Leaving the safety of Elysium, where Drageda's sentries couldn't capture him and return him to the sands, and heading in his former pack's direction? Utter madness. But Ephraim felt as though he toed the line between sanity and madness these days, still hearing the sounds of teeth clashing in quiet moments, still frightened of shadows. He wondered if they were looking for him, as they hadn't with any other natrona, and his curiosity got the best of him.

It was a lot closer than he thought it was, and his belly dropped with his misgivings. While running it felt like he crossed miles. In truth it was only a few.

He waited in the Tangle for what felt like hours, poised on his toes for any sign of a sentry, and... none. No wolf came by the borders. Perhaps their claim had shrunk inward with Vercingetorix's departure, but that seemed unlikely. The Dragedans were proud wolves, in his experience. He was ready to up and leave, not willing to tempt fate by getting any closer, when a russet-brown wolf appeared in his periphery and crossed into the trees. Any other day, Ephraim would have thought her a newcomer to the pack, but she came from the west, and it was very strange that no others had been by the border by now.

The wiry coywolf slunk from his cover, two steps at a time with a pause to listen and watch for signs of activity. He crept closer and closer to the borders and still no sign of life. When he finally reached them and found that the newest scent was a week old, his stomach truly plummeted. No. This isn't what he'd wanted to happen. He only wanted to get away himself, leave the Dragedans to their ridiculous idea of peace, and find some true peace of his own where his guilty conscience couldn't eat him alive. He didn't expect them to disappear.

The guilt flared along with an acute sense of grief, for although he'd disagreed with them in the end, Ephraim still felt a bond with his former packmates. They'd saved him from certain death out on his own in the world, and he had never repaid them for that. He felt suddenly silly for leaving the way he had, burning every bridge along the way. And the cliffs still felt like home, or as much like home as any place could after being tarnished by a silly fight. It all felt so pointless now. Ephraim turned his attention away from the borders, to the fresh scent that wound into the woods, and his lip twitched into a tentative curl. As he thought, it was her.

He tracked her through the territory, into Hougeda and down through the tunnels. He swallowed the bile threatening to rise in his throat. Vengeance? Seemed like a petty thing to seek now. Drageda was gone and he would never know what happened to them. There was nothing to avenge. Then what? Ephraim didn't know. He didn't know even when he stood in the shadow of the tunnel, looking out at the beach where both Rosalyn and he had been confined in the end, and hoarsely asked, what are you doing here?

scream, ahh! <3

She certainly wasn't expecting a voice, and the fact that it was one familiar from her captivity set her immediately bristling.  She shot to her feet and whirled around, but the sudden movement went a spine of pain into her sides. She clenched her teeth and a breath hissed out from between them.

He was here, but he had to be alone, or she'd have been set upon a long time ago.  Right?  Coming here had been a mistake, but it was one she made, and she couldn't very well sprint back to the sound now.

I needed to see, she replied, watching him warily for any sudden movements as she did.  They are gone.  Why aren't you? He had been one of her proudest captors.  She didn't know what had happened here to cause their departure, but whatever it was, she wouldn't have expected him to be left behind.

Rosalyn's sudden movement set Ephraim on edge, as well. His hackles flared and his forelegs splayed wide, setting his stance into a defensive crouch, but she didn't rush him as he expected. His heart hammered and told him that he should make the first move or the battle would come back again in his head and he would lose his mind again, but he was frozen in place. She didn't move. He didn't move. They both stood unmoving until she ground out her wary response, and he blinked rigidly.

I was, he admitted in a voice that was low and trembling. I left. And now they are gone. And here he was. It didn't feel right explaining to an enemy that he hadn't wanted any of this, and try as he might, he couldn't see her as anything but an enemy waiting for a chance to tear out his throat. Like her, he knew it was a mistake to have come here. What if one of the others was close? He was a fast runner, faster than every Dragedan, but there was no guarantee that a member of his family wasn't faster. He had to have got it from somewhere, and he doubted they would sit and talk it out, these wolves who insisted on attacking his pack.

Still, Ephraim had never been the wolf he pretended to be in Drageda. His certainty in that way of life had crumbled, as had his certainty in himself. So while he expected that Rosalyn would kill him if given half the chance, and while he once had boasted and blustered about how pathetic she and her pack were, he couldn't help uttering a very quiet, I'm sorry.

The mutual distrust and fear set electricity in the air between them.  Rosalyn was convinced of the same he was... but she'd been convinced for months that the instant she was seen still here, there wouldn't be any hesitation.  But he was hesitating.

So in the end, he'd deserted too.  Maybe she had been right before then, and they weren't the rock solid force they'd made the appearance to be outwardly.  If she'd recognized him as Caiaphas's son she might have been more intrigued by his apology, but she had no reason to.  She was far too distracted and out of the loop, and instead decided that she by no means wanted or needed it.

She wanted retribution, and if she wasn't already pregnant and struggling she might have sought it.  She was forced to glare at him with a frozen wariness rather than enter another fight, fortunately for the both of them.  I'm not.  Her tone was rife with spite.  From where I stand, we all got what was coming to us.  Drageda destruction from some source, and herself her own punishments.

She spat her response like it was acid in her throat, and Ephraim frowned, withers ruffling with quiet affront. It may not have seemed like it, because he blurted it out quite suddenly, but it took a lot to feel remorse for the way Rosalyn had been treated. Perhaps because, in the end, she had been let go and still railed against them. We should have killed you, he realized. We should have killed you like we killed Eurycrates and maybe then we would have been left alone. But Ephraim knew nothing of the spite, piss and vinegar that drove the majority of his mother's actions in this world; to think they would have been left alone if things had been handled differently was the naive belief of a little boy, not yet confident enough to be a man.

You don't have to be such a bitch, he remarked, his frown turning into a scowl. Drageda got more than it deserved, and you didn't get enough, and I'm still sorry for how shitty I was to you even though Heda let you go. That was more than Drageda had done for him, in the end, and maybe that was why he felt so bitter to look upon her now with her sour grape attitude and her snark. She'd been set free despite the actions of her pack. Former pack? Who knew, it still made him angry. Why'd your friends have to attack us again? Do you all just like hurting others even after they choose to leave you be? He didn't want to know the answer to that, because to know his family relished the suffering of others on top of what he already believed of them would be too much for him, but it was out there now.

There was a time when she hadn't hated them.  She'd been a part of Sleeping Dragon for a while, and had only left because she was ill-suited to a life so heavily based on structure.  Recent events, however, had destroyed any chance of forgiveness or goodwill from her.  It wasn't in her nature to get past what they'd done.

Even her laugh was bitter.  Sometimes we are what we are.  His frank observation amused her but she wasn't about to lower her guard just because he had a little fire behind that front.  If not thanking them for holding me captive and so graciously sparing me makes me a bitch, then I will take it.  If I deserve death then so do you.  He wasn't with them, which meant by whatever fucked up logic they employed his life was forfeit now.  See how he enjoyed the mark.  She'd endured their self-righteous attacks long enough.

She didn't have an answer for him with regards to Caiaphas, because she sure as hell didn't agree with what she did.  Saying she didn't to Ephraim wasn't an option either, though.  If it were up to me, you'd have been ignored like you deserved.  She seemed to think it worth the time.  

She could leave, but she did not want to turn her back on him until she knew she was ready, and her body still needed a breather before she could make her way back to Rusalka.  She could let her tongue roam free, but not too free.  She remembered his fuse ran short.

Never said you deserved to die, Ephraim muttered, eyeing Rosalyn now like she was some complete nutter. Did he really think that was what he thought? Well, it was. He thought it, privately, in his own head; thought that killing her might have saved them some trouble, or given Rusalka a stronger message to leave them alone. But what he thought privately to himself, and what his principles really were, were rather different beasts. Ephraim could think all he wanted that killing someone was the best course of action, but the reality was that he was soft-hearted and could never actually go through with it or advocate it out loud.

And maybe part of him just didn't like the idea that he deserved the same as her, because he was nothing like Rosalyn. He cared. He cared about Drageda despite being imprisoned, and he cared about the idea of family despite wanting to see them gone. He couldn't care about them strictly, because he didn't remember them.

Who is she? Why does she hate us so much? Ephraim was playing with fire now. Vercingetorix hadn't been very specific about who from Rusalka attacked him, just that someone did. He was better off not knowing, but he was probably going to find out sooner or later. He knew the black-faced one was his mother because Antumbra had told him so, not because he remembered her at all. He still couldn't conjure any memory of his family or what they were like; the storm blocked all that. And what little Antumbra had shared about her was biased and tilted in Drageda's favour. He knew only that she wanted nothing to do with him (why?) and that she wanted to destroy Drageda (why?) and that was all. So he couldn't understand her motives any better than he could remember her as his dam.

Didn't need to.  She was a part of that pack long before he was, she knew the single mind on which it operated.  Nothing she saw had indicated that changed, and they'd all made their stances clear enough while she was there.  Releasing her had been seen as a mercy, and doubtless one some had disagreed with.  She could only assume the worst of all of them now.

Honestly, I don't know.  She likely wouldn't have bothered telling if she did, but she didn't need to lie.  She had no idea why Caiaphas hated them and didn't care - Rosalyn assumed she simply claimed the Sound too strongly to allow them to chase her from it.  That didn't explain her attack, but for that Rosalyn assumed she trusted them about the same about she herself did.  Not at all.

Hardly matters now.  she finished.  Maybe you should ask her yourself, if you really want to know.  Wouldn't that be a sight to see?

Okay then, was all he really had to say, so he didn't bother saying it out loud. He couldn't say what he was looking for here. Absolution, maybe. He wasn't going to get it from Rosalyn, so there was no reason to stay.

He met her suggestion with a derisive tch. Why do you think I left them? I'm not stupid, you know. But she didn't know, because she didn't know him. When she was captive he had shown a great deal of false bravado while threatening her, and that was all she knew of Ephraim Eyjolfur. She didn't know that it was all just a front, or that his mind had changed very quickly when shit got too real for him to handle, or that he regretted blindly following orders after learning just who the enemy was.

She didn't know him, and any opportunity for him to learn of her was gone when he turned and set off back up the tunnel, muscles poised in case she tried to get the jump on him while his back was turned.

Did she? She thought idly, watching impartially as he turned to leave.  She didn't throw any parting remarks, but would certainly keep a close eye out for him as she left... how did she know if he'd be lying in wait along the way?

She didn't care to ask him anything, or to know why he was here and not with them.  She didn't care why they left, or where they went.  She'd be glad if she never saw another Drageda face again.

But later, she'd realize that this meeting did give her something.  He hadn't cared whether she lived or died... and he hadn't attacked her.  It seemed maybe, if she honestly was gone, their leader's intent towards her had died as well.  She might be able to walk the coast in relative safety now.  

At this moment, however, she simply watched him disappear, waiting to gather her strength and make the trek back to the sound.