Middle of the night, hours 'til daybreak; Mostly Cloudy; Current Temperature: 59° F/15° C

Patrolling. Always patrolling... Never skipping a beat. Never straying from one routine to the next. Tonight, Borden was particularly keen on reaching a particular spot of the territory. It was nothing special when someone not apart of the family gazed upon it, but the ancient, hollow tree had once been the birthplace of his first two sons and first-born daughter. Images of their faces - at only a few months old, jumped out at him as he sauntered along, causing him to stop dead in his tracks and search his immediate surroundings for the three children that had grown up in his absence.

An almost ghostly masked face flaunting blue, nearly vivid gold eyes peered out from behind a tree before disappearing.

Prosper.

Borden's eyes widened, but he shook his head and glanced over his shoulder before taking a step forward and continuing to walk along the invisible fence that separated Grizzly Hollow and the realm of Relic Lore beyond it. Prosper was gone... and he had been since the day the boy wandered too far away from home. His throat tightened uncomfortably and from the corner of his eye a flash of ivory fur, freckled with mud caught his attention. Hocus. A low growl lifted from his throat and he fought to keep his lips sealed, trying hard to not call for the boy to return.

Wandering along he made an attempt to pick up his pace. After roughly ten steps the resonance of girlish, almost mischievous, laughter and a glimpse of amber eyes, framed by stark gray fur, made him stop abruptly again.

"Trisden!"

He jumped back as the name left his mouth, startling not just himself but the doves that had taken perch above him. His eyes wildly scanned the forest, straining to take in the spaces between all the trees. He bounded forward, heading toward the place where he thought he had heard the girl giggle. He stopped again and steadied himself. His heart raced inside his chest. No one answered. No one, not even Trisden, appeared in the five minutes that had passed.

Perhaps he missed them. Perhaps insomnia was starting to drag him down. Maybe... even both. Ultimately disheartened, the leader carried onward, quietly marking trees and other prominent markers - boulders tucked away into the brush, towering hedges and low-lying shrubs, the sides of fallen logs. Wherever his earthen, cedar-infused scent had faded away in the past three days, he made sure to vamp up the spot. Though his dark ears laid back along his ruff and his tail held steady behind him, he crept through the woodland, trusting that his feet and muscle memory would guide him to where his heart ached to go.

Her name had carried on the wind, and she had gasped. Did he know? Her father - blood father - had been her metaphorical prey for a good part of the night so far. At first it had felt disrespectful, as if by trailing Borden she was trying to reduce him to something beneath her, but soon all feelings of that had faded away into fascination. Trisden had spent a lot of time creeping about in her time away; as a young, relatively weak wolf, stealth had been her means of survival. She was not the bulky creature that Hocus was. No doubt he had grown even bigger in her absence.

Bigger and stronger and happier all around.

She was entirely confident that the Lyall patriarch had not seen her, but that declaration of her name - he had called out to her, and she had stood dead, heart thumping a hard, terrified rhythm, petrified that her folly had been found out and the one wolf she had been so carefully avoiding had found her out anyway, maybe he could smell her disgrace on the wind. She had not been delighted to learn that Borden was the figurehead of the pack once more, but a small part of her had been pleased that her name was not one of weakness any more.

She had considered rejecting the Lyall brand, it was true. In the end, she had decided against it, and while she did not think of her blood association with Borden Lyall with pride, she was satisfied by his rank at least.

Minutes passed, her heart in her throat, but the silence dragged on and she realised that he had seen a ghost of her, or had heard her shadow on the wind. He thought of her? The lump in her throat took a decidedly emotional turn, but she fought it, refusing to become sentimental. Borden's face had not been one she had ever cried over, not since he had first vanished. Why should she care if he saw her in the trees?

He started to move again, and cautiously his daughter followed, leaving a wide enough gap that he fell out of sight completely several times over; the pungent trail he left behind was more than adequate to track him. He was leaving a blazing trail in his wake. With a dead expression she moved, her heartbeat still a faint flutter, still affected by his raw cry.

She could not do this any longer. Not like this. Fighting the emotion, Trisden frowned as she came to a halt, her breath heavy and hard in her chest.

"Borden," she said neutrally, likely not loud enough to bridge the gap between them. Then again, louder: "Father."

Perhaps he would think it the wind replying. If he did, would she be brave enough to call again? Even now she stood, terrified that he would respond.

A familiar scent lingered in the air as he trekked on. It reminded him of something... or, rather, someone he used to know, but his mind already had him convinced that he was hallucinating - truly imagining now that his eldest children still inhabited this part of the forest. It wasn't until a voice called his attention and he slowed to a stop. His bear-like ears drew forward and his head rose. The first syllable was only just enough to make his ears twitch but the quick addition of the word "father" made his attention snap. He immediately looked over his shoulder. Confusion flickered over his masked features but it was soon washed away as he half-recognized the young girl who was staring right back at him. The dark mask, so similar to the one he saw in his own reflection, was barely hard to miss.

After inhaling a couple of deep breaths, her scent finally registered underneath the various potpourri that told him she had been traveling for a long time. He slowly turned around to fully face her. This time when her name left his tongue his voice was nearly a whisper, "Trisden?

His tail wavered then grew still and rose just enough to assert an air of dominance about him. "You..." he hesitated, biting back the words in fear of spoiling this encounter between them. "You came back." If this had been anyone other than his daughter, he would have snapped, but Trisden... his dearest Trisden... The girl might have made him feel estranged when he returned home last autumn but she was still his flesh and blood. To turn her away on the edges of her family's home at this point would have been nothing but folly.

Borden carefully looked her over from the distant spot ahead of her; what he couldn't see properly in the dark his nose picked up her condition. There seemed to be no blood... no telltale signs of injury, but the sharp smell of adrenaline shrouded quickly around her. His head canted slightly to the left. She was afraid... but, afraid of what? The space between them could have easily been defined and multiplied by a blunt question of why she had sought him out or why she had come back or what had drawn her here from the depths of Relic Lore. Instead, the question he chose acknowledged her as though she had never been absent from the Hollow, "What's wrong?"

Her heartbeat was a terrible drum, loud and furious in her ears, as she watched him turn. She could see the disbelief as if it was his aura - or was that bewilderment? repulsion? No - she saw the confusion in his face as he stared at her, saw the recognition dawn, and wondered with shame just how long it had been that her own father - her own flesh and blood - had not instantly realised who it was.

But that was not all her fault, he realised. Her absence was only an extension of his own. They were as guilty as one another.

You came back. he said, and she hated the implications. Trisden the abandoner. The weak-willed. The fickle. She wanted to be none of those things, and yet, how else had she behaved? Why should I care what hethinks? she reminded herself with no small measure of viciousness, but it was a half-hearted rebuttal, and she felt no better for thinking it.

She felt like a live wire as he stared at her, judging her, but the question which came felt all wrong - it felt too right. It was an appropriate question for a father to ask his daughter... it was well within his rights.

You, she whispered in the back of her mind, irrationally scared that he would be able to hear if it she thought it too loudly. But that was not wholly it. She did not know how to answer such a question.

Abruptly, it made her think of Hjornir. He had enjoyed deep, probing questions too, and suddenly she laughed, a quiet snort which broke the tension in her chest. "What is it with old guys and blunt questions?" she said, scarcely able to believe her own tone, the confident slant to her mouth. That moment of rebellion - against Borden, against his sincere concern - was enough to weaken the spell of fear. She did not need to live under his shadow. He had called for her, and she had come. She recognised how important this meeting could be for re-evaluating where they stood with one another, for that was a question that truly needed to be asked.

That acknowledgement, that this moment was truly important, dampened her rebellion. Her expression softened, and her ears flicked back, for she could see where his tail stood, and she had to know her place. I'm sorry. she thought, and continued: "It's... a lot has changed. I didn't know if you'd be... unhappy to see me."

I don't think I'm happy to see you.

Trisden's laughter caught him off-guard and one of his ears swiveled to the side in uncertainty. "What is it with old guys and blunt questions?" The question made the corners of his mouth twitch, as though he were attempting to manage a smile. Though as soon as she answered his question and he drank in every breath of her response, he relaxed. "It's... a lot has changed. I didn't know if you'd be... unhappy to see me."The twitching and quivering along his stiff frame ceased and his tail eased into a more relaxed position, curving up slightly with a slight wag. Borden tried hard to study her face, to read her body language and the emotions woven into her stance and voice. The smile that had been difficult to materialize lifted his cheeks just enough along both sides of his muzzle.

"Of course I'd be happy to see you," he tried to assure her. I'm happy enough to know that you're okay, that you're well, that you're alive, that you're... somewhere safe. "You're... my daughter, Trisden," he then said slowly, his eyes trained on her face. "I'd always be happy to see you." He swallowed the lump that was forming in his throat, trying to keep a straight face. Inside, his heart was breaking. The place where the tawny girl had once been held in his heart was now shattered by this young woman. Sure, it had been somewhat broken since the day when the 7-month-old Trisden chose to merely eye him, silent and visibly wary, but now... only the pain that collected in his ribcage could define what was left of his relationship with his first-born daughter. Guilt, he discovered, was now unbearably inevitable. Why he couldn't have been the father he was now (with his ever-vigilant patrols and controlling measures with having to constantly keep tabs on Taima and Renier) to Trisden when she was younger? Being unable to find the right answer to that was probably the most painful part. He had had to lose everything in order to fully appreciate what he had now.

His eyes drifted downward before briefly surveying their surroundings. "I don't... I'm not... I'm not expecting your forgiveness or anything of the like," he professed, turning an ear towards her as he pretended to fixate himself on something in the distance. "I'm just glad that you're all right... to see you here standing before me." I must have finally done something good to deserve your presence.

Her hesitant comments drew from her father a more relaxed pose, and at first she wasn't sure what to make of that. Of course I'd be happy to see you, he declared, and she was glad that he was so confident of it. She detested the small ping of guilt in her gut. He spoke of certainties and absolutes, as if being blood made everything easier, simpler. Black and white. If he was so happy to see her, why could she not repay the sentiment? They were both tainted. Was he worse than her, that she could not summon the same familial affection? Or did that make her worse?

She had been trying to peel away from these probing questions that took her in circles. It was impossible to move forwards when she was constantly questioning her tail.

Did he anticipate her feelings? I'm not expecting your forgiveness. She tried to watch him impassively, betray nothing of her thoughts, but it didn't make a difference; he turned his eyes away, staring at something else, and she wondered if maybe they were more alike than she had once believed. Than she wanted to believe.

"I..." What? 'Am glad that you are well'? 'Am glad that you care about my well being, as a father should'? Then shouldn't I care for you, as a daughter should? It all stuck in her throat, unable to come out, and she felt again as she had with Kade, when all she was became stuck in her chest, the bottleneck of her voice too small for it all. Kade... Borden... fathers each, but she had placed just different values on both, yet things had changed, things were different - but they'd always been different, she could not deny it.

"I miss Theo," she muttered, a raw sentiment, finally a purely honest one. But it was more than that. She did not miss Prosper so much as her white brother... but why? Because she had known him less, or because his undoing had not been her fault? Must affection be tied to guilt, to wrongdoing? In that case, she and Borden should love each other more than anybody else.

"I... I miss Theo," she admitted. How many times could a heart break? Apparently several times at this point. Darling, darling girl... "I do too," he confessed, his brow furrowing as he brought his eyes back to her face, to read the emotion there. "I've missed all of you. There's never been a day that has gone by without me thinking about you... and Theo... Hocus and Prosper and Arlette."

Everything about this meeting turned bittersweet so quickly. It was not even surprising in the least. His ears lowered as he swallowed again. As though to take another measure to make sure he didn't choke on his next set of words, he cleared his throat quietly. "You were all... so young then," he started, the corners of his lips twitching again. "Too young to understand, but... I really am sorry to have left you. I don't know what I was thinking. I don't... I don't know why I left without notice. Now that you're old enough to understand, I just want you to know that it won't ever happen again, that if you ever have want for anything, I am willing to offer it to you. Whatever you need. I'm here."

His eyes welled up but he gave a sniff and blinked a few times to get a hold of himself. "I'll be here, and I also wanted... to let you know that I've never even forgiven myself for leaving you behind. If there is anything I can do, please... please let me know." Whatever it takes to make everything all right again... to finally lay the pain of the past to rest. Closing his eyes, he lowered his rump to the ground, his muzzle turning downward in anticipation for her reply. He had laid all his cards out on the table, no tricks or deceptions, all there was left now, he supposed, was the stage and his audience. A magician in the spotlight, on bended knees, with nothing else to show or offer but himself in all that he is and was.

Where she had lost her voice, he gained him. Trisden had not expected the speech, but as he talked, she realised how much she needed it.

After everything, it was the open admission of mistakes, of having missed them, the declarations of love - these were all the things she needed. She had been a poor daughter, and he had been a poor father, and she had felt his absence keenly even as she was glad for it. She hadn't needed him, she'd told herself. All she needed was her mother, her pack, her brothers - and one by one it had all fallen, and where was she now? What was she now? Borden had never featured into it, but here he was, revealing his weaknesses, bearing his apologies. She wanted them as much as she rejected them. For him to acknowledge guilt, blame, his failures, it was all she wanted.

But then she was going to have to do the same.

She had stopped breathing at some point, and it felt like her heart had stopped too. He hasn't even forgiven himself either. When his rear fell to the ground, she felt her legs go weak, but she refused to mirror him. We are not the same, she told herself desperately, but was it true? She was his blood, he was her blood, and they even looked alike. But for gender, she was practically his clone.

"I hated you," she found herself saying, barely more than a whisper. "Prosper was gone, and you left us. We needed you. I didn't understand... you're right, I was too young. We were all too young. That's why we needed you." The words threatened to choke in her throat, but she fought back, stubborn. He had bared himself, and now, now, she had to do the same. It was past time for self-pity and torment. He was a wolf grown, her father, and he could take it. A part of him probably needed to hear it. If nothing else, Trisden could give him honesty.

"Mother needed you too, most of all, I think. When Kade came, he... he was everything, when you were gone. He held her together. I wished he was my father." She swallowed, finding that particularly prickly to say, but she lifted her head a little higher and soldiered on. "Prosper was found, and you... you still were not there. We didn't understand. Prosper was gone. It tore Mother apart, and you still weren't there.

"Then I... then..." Now it swelled in her throat and she could not say it. Her heart beat faster, the heat in her face. I miss Theo. "He died," she spat out, fury and misery sharing her expression in equal measure, "and it has all been broken, ever since. Kiche was gone, Mother had lost two of us, a demon came for me, He left me, Hocus hated me..."

But it wasn't Borden's fault. Her heart pounded in her chest as she realised how her words suddenly all revolved around her. The anger and sadness raged, until she wiped both clean with a bitter scowl, and she was unable to meet his eyes. "I left too, and I came back. We're the same. I wanted to change my name, you know - I didn't want to be a Lyall any more. But we're the same. For better or worse, I'll always be a Lyall."

Summoning the last of her strength, she stared at him through narrow, angry, hurt eyes. "I'm not leaving, either, I promise." We both have to live in this world. We have to redeem the name of Lyall. We have a lot to make up for, both of us.

Amen.