With Naia being due any day now the ghostly leader did not stray far from the borders. Being both the father of her children and the pack’s healer (and the leader) his presence would be necessary at the birthing and Lachesis’ biggest fear was not hearing the scout’s call. Their relationship remained strictly professional during her pregnancy. It had been to secure the future of the pack and unify the remaining members — and future members. Despite their strong friendship, there was nothing romantic going on between the two wolves. Sure, they had a history that dated back to the days of Pitch Pine Trail, but it did not ever push the boundaries between friendship and something more.

Truthfully, Lachesis was not interested in something more period. He had grown accustom to the idea that those he opened up to would abandon him in the future so he kept to himself. The ghost had no desire to pursue anything — anyone — and was far more concerned about his current position in the pack. Prior to Maksim’s death the ghost had begun to realize that his position was not as temporary as he had hoped for. Hearthwood was Maksim’s legacy: he could not let it fall apart.

Karina had finally returned to the river as well, sporting her own swollen belly. It pained him to think that Maksim had not lived to see the birth of his grandchild, but it also pained him to know that the river princess had gone behind her parents back. She would not speak of the father and while the ghost had his suspicions, he dared not voice them. Without the company of his fallen king and his chocolate nephew, Lachesis’ thoughts remained under lock and key in the back corners of his mind.

In order to keep himself occupied the ghost meandered through the forest. The borders had been unusually quiet as of late, but he was thankful for the lack of commotion. Losing Maksim had been unexpected and made the last few days incredibly difficult. Part of Lachesis felt responsible for the king’s death. As the healer, it was his job to ensure his patients recovered. And when they did not he felt like a failure. Maksim had been making slow improvements and had been determined to return to his throne, so the drastic change in his health had come as an unwelcome surprise. It left the pale healer feeling lost. His friend of many years was gone… there would be no light banter or strategy to be discussed. The determined king had fallen after years of improving his pack and taking them all over Relic Lore in order to find a place that was right from them (and threat-free). It was a hard pill to swallow and it would take Lachesis some time to recover.

As he worked his way through the trees a familiar, foreign scent toyed with his senses. His brows knitted together in thought as he tried to put a name to the exotic scent that lured him to the borders of Hearthwood. It couldn’t be, he thought to himself as he paced through the trees, his chartreuse gaze fixated on where the tree line met the lowlands. The was a shape ahead — one that screamed familiarity — but his mind could not put a name to the figure. What alarmed him was that the creature was sprawled across the ground, exhausted and barely holding it together. His pace quickened as he approached the stranger, his limbs tense as realization kicked in.

No.

Disbelief consumed him as he took a step back, his upper lip curled back as he studied the smudge before him. She was one of the few that had abandoned him — abandoned Hearthwood. Without so much of an explanation, she had up and left. Months had passed — months without so much of a glimmer of the exotic fae. Why now — why had she decided to return now? Words failed him as an unexpected anger consumed him, burning furiously within him as a low growl rumbled from his chest to alert the wolf of his presence. He certainly was not happy to see the former Cut Rock scout. Too much time had passed since they had last seen each other; he refused to forgive her so easily for her unexcused absence. 

He did not step forward. He did not seek comfort in her return, nor did he want to comfort her. She had left him without a word — something that he did not forgive so easily. It was the third time that a female had left him without an explanation. It was a game that he was growing tired of and did not have time for. His main concern was Naia and ensuring that he was doing his job as leader of the river wolves. XIX did not want to tarnish the memory of his former king and have Hearthwood crumble around him. During one of their last conversations the late king had stated that this was the place he wanted to spend the rest of his days, and Lachesis had agreed. He had grown tired of moving around (despite his wanderlust desires that occasionally crept into his heart) and did not want to see the Baranski’s legacy fall apart.

She moved toward him, reaching for him, but he retreated. His expression remained the same: features smooth with only his nose wrinkled, teeth threatening to show from behind his liquorice lips. Instinct told him to flee — to abandon her at the borders of Hearthwood and leave her for someone else to find. Kisla would not be pleased to see the raven; the river wolves were not forgiving when it came to disloyalty. It was his overwhelming curiosity that kept him glued to the spot, his forehead creased and eyes dark. What had caused her to leave and why? Why had she left without telling him; telling the pack? His frown deepened as he remained tight-lipped.

She spoke suddenly, filling the air between them with the exotic accent he had grown to love before her disappearance. Now it did nothing for him. She claimed that she had missed him but why had it taken her so long to return? “Yes, I remember you,” he responded coolly, his chin angled upward. He wanted to ask where she had gone, why it had taken so long for her to return, but he swallowed the words the moment they entered the back of his throat. No, she could explain herself to him. He did not want to be the one to pry. It was her story to tell. 

Truly he did not know if he missed the raven-coloured wolf. Things did not feel the same but the longer he looked at her, the harder it was to ignore the old feelings that threatened to resurface. He swallowed them, not daring to allow them to distort his thoughts. The anger he felt was enough to dissolve any feelings of empathy he was harbouring. If she had not been the third wolf to disappear from his life without an explanation, perhaps he would have been excited to see her mismatched eyes. Her arrival was bittersweet. He did not know if she was here to stay, or if she had returned to let him know that she was alive and was just passing through. The ghost was happy to know that she was, indeed, alive, but he did not know if he wanted her to stay. Or if Kisla would allow her to rejoin the river wolves

“You left,” he responded after a pregnant pause, his brows knitted together as he studied the raven before him, “without an explanation. I had a pack to lead — to take care of. I didn’t have time to miss you,” he added as explanation, his lips curling into a sneer around his words. He did not mean to be so malicious, but it was difficult being abandoned three times. It was not something that could be forgotten so easily.

She spoke again, this time in a more frantic tone, her words taking a dramatic turn. “Is that what you want?” He asked, voice sharp as his head dipped to the side. “Why did you come back, Bastet? Did you think everything was going to be just as you left it?” He was no longer the timid, cautious creature he had been prior to Bastet’s disappearance. Lachesis had grown confident in who he was and was not willing to allow another female to cloud his judgement. 

He wanted to believe her — more than anything — but he had heard it all before. Empty promises followed by hollow words… he did not know what to believe. A frown creased his snout as he studied her, perplexed by the desperation in her voice. This was a side of her he had not seen before. Usually it was her with the sharp tongue and trying to pull him out of his anxieties, not the other way around. She had been there for him during his worst, and while he wanted to return the favour, Lachesis didn’t know if he could. Bastet had known how devastated he had been after both Capella and Anastasia abandoned him, yet she had done the same to him? It didn’t make sense.

“I want to believe you,” he started, voice softer than it had been previously, “I want to believe you’re sorry…” His voice trailed off, chartreuse gaze falling to his oversized paws as his tongue fumbled over the words he wanted to say. “Show me you want to be here.” His gaze flitted upward, catching her mismatched pools. “Show me you want to be here with me.” He didn’t know if he would regret his words later, but they danced off his tongue before he had a chance to reconsider.

His expression remained stone cold, not once wavering despite the erratic thumping in his chest. The ghost king did not know how Kisla would react to Bastet’s return, especially after she had abandoned the river wolves. While he wanted to chase her away from Kingsfall, Lachesis knew that they needed numbers — and a part of him, although he refused to admit it aloud, missed her. “There will be no second chances if you leave again,” he stated after a pregnant pause, his lips tight against his teeth. “You want to stay in Hearthwood, with me? Start at the bottom. Show me that you want to be here, Bastet.” He repeated, his voice growing soft once more as he studied the raven. There would be no games — he did care about her, despite his frigid exterior, but he would not be abandoned yet again.