Aleksei had spent all morning picking his way through the heavy woodland banking Windsong Fjord. The steep incline made the journey much more difficult than he had originally anticipated, but that was the point of coming here. He had wanted to push himself.

When the terrain eased slightly, when he could walk without needing to pigeon foot every step, the Fjord was a pretty nice place to be. Despite the overcast weather, with rain threatening to dribble at any moment, it was calm. A peaceful sort of place, where the breeze whistled in his ears and tousled the fur across his back.

His thoughts were captured by family—he had been considering paying a visit to Risaela and Mathéo, as he had promised to be a part of their lives (and was determined to fight the odds to do so). Despite having seen so little for the two of them—one meeting each—they had a special place in his heart. His last siblings. He hadn’t been there for so many … but this time, Aleksei really had a chance to do it right. He would be a fool not to seize it.

No one would be able to stop him.

It was only then, when he lifted his head to huff stubbornly, that he spied the black figure of another wolf. “Morning,” he called out—a little conversation never hurt, did it?

Chartreuse eyes widened—she was looking for Hearthwood River. It had been an unexpected question, and Aleksei couldn’t help the sharpness of his tongue as he scoffed his reflex response. “You won’t find many friends with the River wolves.” And he fell silent with a sigh and a shake of his head. Where had that come from? He wasn’t setting out to spread false rumours or cruel lies about the pack, not that they were lies to him personally. He just … didn’t particularly like the place, that was all.

Feeling like an outcast in what was supposed to be your father’s legacy—and your inheritance (which was all bullshit, honestly)—made the heart a bit sour, after all.

But still! Some simple manners wouldn’t go amiss. He didn’t anyone, especially not Lachesis, nor Laike and Lilya. Aleksei just strongly disliked some of the others. Very strongly.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed out with a weary smile, “that was messed up of me to say. Yes. Yes, I know where Hearthwood River is. What’s your friend’s name? Maybe I know them, maybe I can help?” Because he felt guilty for being so rude, and wanted to make it up to the dark-furred girl before him. “I … I lived there, not long ago.”

Never could he have expected this to happen. Never had he thought that something so monumental would arise from a simple meeting between two souls. Aleksei Baranski had never been much of a believer in fate, nor destiny, but this … well, it would certainly shake him.

She was looking for her brother. Kyrios Aegina. Immediately, the Aleksei’s eyes widened. His ears pressed against his skull and he looked away with a tight frown. Uncertainly, he lowered to his haunches, an awkward sit.  How to begin? “I … I know him, but I don’t where he is. Months ago, on the mountain …” He would have continued once he had found a way to put it into words, would have explained the business that had unfolded there (how cruel he had been, how heartless), but there was more that tied this swarthy yearling to him—there was always more.

Her mother was Karina Baranski; this was his niece.

Aleksei’s throat constricted, his mouth dried. He lowered his head, tried to swallow, licked his lips in a weak attempt to return some moisture. It was an information overload. His skull felt heavy.

“My sister,” he finally choked out, “you’re my sister’s.”

All at once, the first born Baranski-Tainn’s failures were staring him down. Aleksei wanted to excuse himself and hurry back to Wild Rye Field. He could pretend this had never happened. But he couldn’t. He was rooted to the spot, half-formed thoughts churning out from his sluggish mind. Karina. Lost. His niece motherless. Alone. Kjors. Kjors? Definitely. Yellow eyes, black fur. Piercing gaze. Baranski. Dragon.

“You’re his.”

Karinakarinakarinakarina.

She's beautiful.

I'm so sorry.

I never got to tell you that to your face.

Squeezing his eyes shut for a moment, Aleksei let out a shaky breath. He wanted to compose his thoughts, wanted to appear fine and not mentally unhinged, but the moment this girl had let Karina’s name drip from his lips, he found himself wrapped up in that horrible guilt again.

“I haven’t—I haven’t seen my sister for a long time.” His brows furrowed. “Or Kyrios. All that remains of my family is my younger siblings. The eldest is Inna, but she … she won’t help you. She only thinks of herself.” And that was no lie. Inna had vilified Karina for her mistakes, and then done the exact same thing herself. There was no doubt in Aleksei Baranski’s mind that his raven furred sister wouldn’t give two whiffs. That was just the kind of wolf she was now.

Perhaps the wolf she had always been.

“Karina,” he immediately attempted to steer the conversation away from his least preferred blood relative to his most dearly missed. “I lost her trail. On the mountain. I searched so long for her—for you.” Because he had known he had a niece, that Karina was with her young cub, out in the wild. And he’d failed. Miserably. “That’s where Kyrios and I … argued. Where we buried Kjors.”

Where he had taken out all his frustrations on a boy, and let himself sink into misery and grief.

All because of his own stupid, wounded pride.

“I don’t know where he went after that. He went off himself.” And then, the confession; “I let him.”