Ah. So Rowan was looking for a runaway daughter, was he? At least, that was what Aleksei presumed. He didn't know the full story and could only make assumptions. He wasn't about to pry for details, either. It wasn't really his place. Sure, their parents had been good friends, and Maksim certainly thought of the Attayas as family, but that didn't mean a magical bond struck up between their children the moment they laid eyes on each other.

“I'll keep an eye out,” he said. Not that he'd be able to easily track down the dark wolf if he found the missing yearling, or even find him again at all. There was every chance that Iyes had walked through Relic Lore, just another nameless place in her journey, and that Rowan would follow her path, leave his past behind. Aleksei couldn't judge anyone for running away from such things—he'd done it twice himself, after all. “If I see her, I'll let her know you're looking for her.” That seemed like the reasonable thing to do, because the agouti River wolf wasn't about to abandon his post and family to disappear for another month. No way.

Aleksei hoped that the conversation would end on that topic, that they'd go their separate ways and Rowan would be none the wiser about the passing of Maksim, but that was obviously wishful thinking. He asked about the Baranski's deceased patriarch, and Aleksei's mouth went dry for a second time. He struggled to find an immediate response—a vague reply, or a clipped remark—but all he could do was stumble over the truth on his tongue. His head dropped and his shoulders slouched. “He … I'm sorry. My father, he passed away last year.”

It had been months, and the knowledge of his father's passing still made Aleksei's stomach twist itself into anxious knots. He had wondered many times if he should be over it be now, if he should be moving on. He was a man, for goodness' sake—he should be able to keep better control of his feelings. He'd never seen his dad shed a single tear, never saw an ounce of anything beyond the joy of being with his family and the anger of knowing they were facing difficulty (even then, he kept the latter as far away from his children as he possibly could).

Aleksei's ears folded back, and he merely nodded at Rowan's words. Time, he said. It would get better with time. How much time? For how long would he feel this empty and guilty? The Attaya wouldn't have those answers—he could only give what he knew, and it seemed he knew that grief was not a quick, fleeting feeling. God, Aleksei was so sick of waiting! Waiting for things to fall into place, waiting for time to pass, waiting, waiting, waiting.

Even the word was taxing.

But the subject shifted—the topic of dead fathers too awkward, too upsetting—and Aleksei once again nodded. “Yeah. It's north from here. Once you pass the lake, you need only head a little further until you find the riverside. Follow that, you'll eventually find the borders.” A pause. He furrowed his brows, tried to think of the words. “My father is buried just beyond the boundary, though, in a clearing of lavender.” That was all he would say on the matter. Whether Rowan wanted to visit was up to him, and Aleksei simply offered the information as a sort of just in case.

It was easy for Aleksei to get lost in the turbulent thoughts in his head. Like a bird in a hurricane, he was tossed around and battered by the gusts. Yet he couldn’t stop trying to fly straight, because giving up wasn’t ever an option, was it? Now and then, he’d find the eye of the storm, find some momentary peace with which to gather himself and breathe. He’d think maybe this time I’ll be okay, but it wouldn’t be long before the winds whipped him up in their flurry of dust and dirt and debris. It was a storm that chased him everywhere he went. Rain in his heart, thunder in his head.

He nodded as Rowan confirmed that he’d visit Maksim Baranski’s grave in the future—perhaps, once he’d found his daughter? There was no rush, not really. His father wasn’t going to be going anywhere soon (unlike Kjors, but the wolf had not be buried, simply covered). “I understand,” he said. “I’m glad I could give you some information in the end. I, uh. I hope you find her soon.” Inhaling deeply as Rowan turned away, he cast his gaze over the place his father used to live one last time, and where the Attaya family had been shattered.

He couldn’t help but feel the melancholy this place gave off, as awe inspiring as it was in its grand power. Sadness and death lingered here. Aleksei couldn’t blame Rowan for wanting to leave as soon as possible. That planted another thought in the Baranski’s head. How long would he want to stay in his father’s place of death? He shuddered, and turned away himself, setting back off for Kingsfall.

How long?