The woman had grown tired of waiting. She'd grown tired of her own cowardice. These lands were her home, the home that she'd been so crudely torn away from. Why should she fear them now? Maybe because she'd been away from them longer than she'd lived within them...Her tail lashed at her backside as she moved through the dark wood, ears twitching atop her head. She would find @Neades soon, but in the meantime, Aphrodite refused to hover about the fringes of her palace, her safe haven.
But was it really?
Time after time, she'd been torn away from her family, and time after time, they had failed to rescue her. When she needed them, a stranger appeared in their stead. The Cavern wolves, Neades...The yearling could not say that he had rescued her, but had given her an outlet. Her thoughts, muddled and depressed, suddenly had direction when she was in the company of another after traveling on her own, in whatever direction carried her away from those that had sought to harm her. They shared no blood or bond, and yet they'd traveled together for a month. It was the most meaningful relationship she had made yet in her short time on this sphere.
Perhaps that was why she feared these lands. She feared those that lived within and what her own feelings towards them might be when finally in their presence. If they still were here. Elliot, Athena, Ash. Her head hurt thinking about them, wolves that shared her blood and yet she found herself unable to give them the titles that she once had. Brother, mother, father. They were too far apart now. And though she loved them, she was certain that she would disappoint them.
Through her teeth, she pulled in a breath, feeling her ribs ache as her lungs strained against them. There was hardly any fat on her body at this point. The long reaching winter combined with the seemingly endless journey home (and perhaps a bit of stubbornness on her part, refusing to let anyone hunt for her) had left her scraggly and thin. Her winter coat hid her ribs, strained against flesh, but it clearly hung from her, heavy and patchy as the increasing warmth caused her to shed. Aphrodite paused at the mouth of an abandoned den. Fox scent lingered about the entrance, but it was faint, stale. Reluctantly, she retreated within, turning about in the small space to let her head rest near the entrance. For the night she would claim this space and be certain that any and all passerby might see her resting here. Maybe they'd leave her be.