She was done. With everything. She'd spent months being scared - terrified - of straying too far from Viorel or Archer's side, fearing every shadow and each call beyond their borders. Was it him? Was he still waiting for them? All the bravery of her puppy days had been stolen away in a single moment of naivety.

And she was done.

She loved her bror. She always had, even though their personalities had always been so different. She'd been frustrated and sad that he withdrew and didn't seem to want her around since their mor died. He was scared too, she knew, and she didn't know how to help him. She didn't know how to help herself.

Until now. Because she was done.

"Azzy," she called as she approached the place she thought him mostly likely to be hiding out. "Jeg drar. Kom med meg." (I'm leaving. Come with me.)

For the first time in a long while Llinnea was sure of herself, of her decision. She was calm... or perhaps numb would be the better description. She had no doubt her brother would come with her; she could have said "let's go" upon her arrival instead. It was only a whim that gave her the words she'd used, more of a request than assumed demand.

He backed out of his hiding place and faced her before offering a bitter, flat response.

"Hvor som helst. Hvor som helst som ikke er her." (Anywhere. Anywhere that's not here). She watched him expectantly, already making to turn and lead the way from the territory to find a new life where they could be free.

Llinnea did not expect to find her path suddenly blocked by her brother, speaking frantically. She stepped back to avoid running into him and regarded him with cool eyes. "Tror du dette er trygt?" (You think this is safe?) She said. She couldn't believe what she was seeing - what she was hearing. She'd expected him to fall in behind her and set out to find their way.

"Her?" she gave an ill-humored laugh. "Han vet at vi er her. Det er bare et spørsmål om tid før han kommer tilbake."(He knows we're here. It's only a matter of time before he comes back). She didn't know why he wanted them dead, but she had nightmares about his fettied breath on her neck and his voice rasping to her, telling her in their special language that she was going to join their mor in death. Did Asmund really think they'd be safe from him here?

Asmund's response was to raise his voice even as he denied her concerns. Now her numb was broken by a tingling of irritation. "De kunne ikke beskytte henne," (They couldn't protect her), she said, but the rest of her thought was cut off by his sudden anger and next words. Llinnea was struck, feeling as though he'd landed a physical blow deep within her chest. She blinked at him, the flicker of her irritation doused in a wave of grief, only to rekindle in a roaring flame of anger.

Her hackles rose and her legs stiffened. "Og hvis du ikke var så feig, hadde jeg kanskje ikke vært lei nok til å utforske!" (And if you weren't such a coward I might not have been bored enough to explore!) she shouted. "Jeg ville bare at du skulle leke med meg!" (I only ever wanted you to play with me!)

The words cut deep, deeper than any teeth or claws ever could. She hadn't expected them from her bror, which made them hurt all the worse. Had she been older she might have said something different, spoke calmly and reasonably. Maybe she would have tried reaching out to him sooner, before they reached this boiling point. Maybe they could have found a way to grieve together.

But Llinnea wasn't older. She was still a pup and in this moment felt betrayed by the only family she had left. She growled, teeth clicking together. "Bot," she snarled savagely. "Hvis du vil bli her og vente på at han skal finne deg, så er det greit. De vil ikke beskytte deg, ikke hvis det kommer ned til deg eller deres egne barn, spesielt etter det du gjorde mot henne." (If you want to stay here and wait for him to find you, then fine. They won't protect you, not if it comes down to you or their own kids, especially after what you did to her.) She knew about her bror's confrontation with the other girl, but not very much about it.

She wished she had the words to hurt him like he was hurting her. For now, in her anger, all she could do was leave him with a few stinging remarks. "Gjør det som vil. Jeg kommer aldri til å være avhengig av noen andre for å beskytte meg igjen. Hvis du vil bli her og gjemme deg og vente på at han skal drepe deg, så vil jeg ikke stoppe deg. Jeg skal komme meg ut, bli sterk, og så skal jeg finne ham og få ham til å betale." (Do what want. I'm never going to have to depend on someone else to protect me ever again. If you wanna stay here and hide and wait for him to kill you, then I won't stop you. I'm going to get out there, get strong, and then I'm gonna find him and make him pay.) She stalked past him, taking care to bump her shoulder against his as she went.

"Kom og finn meg hvis du bestemmer deg for å vokse ryggrad," (Come and find me if you decide to grow a spine,) she snapped over her shoulder as she left.

She would just have to make her way on her own.

Exit unless physically stopped. She will not respond to anything said to her.