Sleepy Fox Hollow gifa

@Anselm.
there was relief mingled with anger to think of his name and how heda would have to face him again. and there was regret, though strangely this emotion was cleft in two: regret for letting him touch her, and regret that even after, anselm had not accepted it.
the hollow still brought its own comfort. heda did not go immediately to her girls, but found a copse in which to endure the freezing rain, and waited for the rough young guardian to find her.

Rain came down in diagonal sleet; a wintery cat’s claws as it scythed down on the reeds and pinewood.

Anselm kept to the tree cover, but one scent permeated the air and told him of her presence.

Heda. A knife-twist of anger, guilt, and resentment alike. He’d noticed her absence the day after and did not understand what to make of it.

Anselm closed the distance, silent as the rain howled around them.

rivulets of rain painted his broad shoulders when at last he prowled closer, a creature created of shadows and resentment. despite this and despite them and despite herself, heda was responsive to the coldly handsome look of the hollow wolf.
not understanding this, she ignored it. "my sister has come back. she's living in the bypass where i stayed for a short while. she's pregnant and wants me to help her raise them."
heda didn't want him to interject; she rushed on.
"the man who — who's helping her, he — we —" well. 
"so now he's going to take care of us both. there's nothing else to worry about, anselm," she finally ended, her tone wrought with finality.

She shared the news of her reunion, of a man — why did his stomach twist at this? He did not love her — no, the emotion reserved for her was something far different; it was a small and stunted tree, beat down by hard weather and drought and yet, on its twisted bough bloomed the smallest tender flower;

He straightened. So you vill be leaving. As they all did — as he knew she would. Why did he feel shame to look upon her and think of the moment of impulse they shared? Despite the tension between them there was nothing awful about her besides her choice of religion. It was his right to sleep with a woman; he was man, and she —

’Take care of us both’. Anselm repeated this strange line, bristling at the implication he could not care for his own. Was he that small a man that she had to look to another to be provided for? Did he even want to provide for her?

His head was such a mess. Did he give you vhat you needed to — his voice hitched in his throat — end the pregnancy?

end the pregnancy? heda was unable to keep her face from telegraphing a sudden, vicious disgust, her features twisting in sickened shock.
as she recovered from the harshness — heart pounding above the babes she believed were already growing — she considered: wouldn't it be best if anselm thought they were gone? but heda found such ugliness in denying them even for a moment that she did not think she would be able to form the words of a lie.
yet if she didn't, anselm — would he come after her? try to force her to stay? "yes. there's more i'll need to take when i go back. but," and exhaustion, the sin of the denial, "it's done. it goes against everything i stand for," and again the loathing, regretful look haunted her eyes, "and i hope god forgives me. but it's done. i'm going to etienne now to see if ava can be moved."
how could he? how could he! the widow stepped from the trees into the rain.

A coward’s sense of selfish relief flooded Anselm’s chest. He was so busy being self involved, he did not see the forest for the trees. He did not see the vicious shift of disgust that twisted Heda’s usually pleasantly attractive features — or the way it darkened and pooled in her eyes.

Stupid man, oblivious to everything and everyone around him except for himself.

Good. He cleared his throat as if this were a business transaction — and not the gristly butchershop of wolven souls marched to their early death.

She moved away from him then; the threshold that separated them growing into a snarling chasm. Anselm did not want Heda as his own — so why did he feel a budding sense of jealousy hiss and coil around his heart? And why did he feel something ugly inside of him stir to think of her leaving him forever?

It was not as if they’d shared something magical. She was worse off for letting him inside her. And he — well, he knew something now about himself that was too unspeakable to name.

As she stepped into the rain Anselm remembered the day Wylla and Mahler said their goodbyes. He remembered the face of his father and the sorrowful look of his mother as she turned to look at Anselm one last time; the breath of winter on their heels, and the forest closing in around her little lost boy.

And once again he felt a stupefying sense of abandonment coil around his heart. So you are leaving me. He repeated quietly — to himself more than anyone — as Heda dipped out from under the eaves of the grey pine and into the spitting rain.

You are leaving me. He said again feebly, as nothing but the hiss of winter rain sounded around him.