July - Outside of Manchester

Heartsong loped through the forested hills, her paws carrying her further and further from Manchester. It was almost therapeutic, this constant running, her furred body stretching out over the loam. She had finally taken a break from her watch at the Fruited plain. If Rael were going to return, it didn't seem to be anytime soon.

The wolf paused only long enough to chase down and eat a rabbit before continuing her run. She swing wide, circling around the city. There was only so far she would go, having determined to stay until Rael returned.

A twinge of annoyance flashed through her mind. Naydene had all but accused her of high handedness; of usurping her authority. She paused at a small pool of water to gaze down into her wolfish yellow eyes. There hadn't exactly been time to ask politely if she could send Rael to Erebus, and judging from what Nay thought of the place, the merest suggestion would have met with extreme disapproval. It was just something that needed to be done.

Heaving a deep sigh, the wolf willed her form to melt away, leaving Cerise to stare back at her own reflection. It bothered her that Naydene had thrown Chicago in her face, as if the intervening nine years had never existed. A twig dropped into the water, sending ripples across the pond. Cerise's reflection broke, then reformed. She slapped her hand against the water, scattering her image once more.

She hadn't meant to barge in on Naydene's territory, and she certainly hadn't come here to take Rael's respect or affection from her. The accusation stung unfairly in her mind. Cerise had wanted to shout it back. It was not -her- fault that the others had compared them unfavorably. It was not -her- fault that Creed had mistreated Naydene. But she had said none of those things, instead, she had walked away.

It struck her just then, that this was exactly what she had done all her life. Walked away from confrontation. She didn't like arguments, and back in San Francisco, she had stepped back and let the other Philodox deal with Rites of Punishment, dealing only with healing and comfort. Since she had been a child, she'd had an inner need to be liked, to be everybody's darling.

Curling her legs beneath herself, Cerise continued to gaze into her reflection, thoughts drifting like clouds across her mind. What had she done to help Naydene in Chicago? Nothing. Oh, she had been sympathetic, commiserating and feeling sorry for Naydene. But she hadn't stood up beside her to tell the Glasswalkers that they were wrong. Instead, she had walked away from there too.

Cerise put her hand out to dash her reflection again but, as her fingers touched the water's surface, the image changed and she found herself staring down into the features of her eldest daughter. Snatching her hand back, she watched as, one by one, the images of her children marched across the surface of the pond. Sera. Ahmad. Tina.

Tears filled her eyes as grief rose up in her breast again. Clenching her hand into a fist, Cerise smashed it down into the water, sending violent waves across the pool. Tilting her head back, she let out a long, inhuman, howl of anguish.

It wasn't until her sobs had subsided that she could think again. Wiping the tears from her face, Cerise mulled over her current predicament. She had run here looking for solace, hoping Rael could kiss the hurt away and make everything better.

Hugging her knees to her chest, she barely saw the clouds parading across the rippling water. Rael had problems of his own, and when he returned, he would have Stacee to take care of. After what she had gone through, his mate was going to need him far more then she herself did. She wouldn't tell him about her own pain, she decided. Stacee needed his attention and she wasn't going to intrude. When Rael was safely returned, she would decide if she was going to stay in the area, or go back home to San Francisco.

Picking herself back up off the ground, Cerise took one last look at her reflection in the pond. "Thank you, Mother..." she whispered, then allowed her lupine self to slip forward as she loped back towards the lights of Manchester.