you do not know who is your friend
and who is your enemy
For years and years he had loathed her—
She had been like him, once. Silly and carefree. Devoted.
But truly, were they not more alike than he had ever wanted to admit? She had been lured in by Rhysis, a charismatic disaster waiting to happen, and Ice—well, Ice had almost, almost, been the father of Rissa, Aiyana, and Torrel. He would've been, had not Corinna refused to stop believing in Indru. How was it different?
I was driven by plight, by Corinna's need his mind whispered anxiously, hating itself for likening himself to Naira. She hadn't had to, she wasn't the leader of a pack, she had no right to (want) to breed—
Who are you kidding? Even Jessie had left, to have a cub of her own. Fenru had left, settling down with the graceful Arlette. Kisla had struck out. Who knew what Aiyana was doing, all the way over in Renegade's Reach?
Swift River had needed something to hold them together, and that had been pain, pain and hatred. Here, now, years and years after the fact, he couldn't help but feel like he had hated her for nothing—no real reason, just flimsy ghosts and self-defense. He gritted his teeth together. Old habits died hard and he didn't know if he was good enough to not lapse into judgment and anger, simply because it felt better and easier than somehow being a good guy.
He swallowed all of that, though, and listened as she began to speak.
Foolishly, he had thought her life full of sunshine and daisies from the day she left them to their misery. He had been aware of their movements in the periphery of his consciousness, like a wolf must be aware of how the packs flow, shift, and settle, but in his bitter anger he had never stopped to wonder why. He knew that Triell had gone up in the mountains at some point, but he hadn't wanted to know the details of it—just as he hadn't wanted to know the details of when Triell defended Naira from his wrath, Blaze's blood still slick and fresh on his white maw. What came was a story not unlike the one of Swift River. A story of bereavement, loss, of wolves disappearing for no reason; his gut clenched. Wrong wolves taking your children...
Ice had liked Rhysis, the time he'd met him by the Lagoon. He had liked him then—pitied him, even. Felt for him. Ice would've helped him, without second thought, but that had all changed after he ran away with Naira; after he goaded and mocked Triell to the point that Ice saw red and attacked him. Maybe he had played into Rhysis' plan entirely but who cared? It had been violent and satisfying and like a release—
Again, knowing how he, too, had been drawn in by Rhysis, could he fault Naira for all this shit? Could he blame her for being kind and naive and so in love with the children she had made?
Then, she laid out the facts in far more plain light than he had been ready for. "By the time Spring rolled around I think we both knew... I left for a few days, went down to Bramble Falls and I ran into Triell... My daughter Nova... spitting image, if a little lighter..."
The ground shook, the mountains crumbled, the heavens fell. Ice stopped breathing, frozen in place, mind shattering as the betrayal punched its way into his heart, his soul, his mind; Triell? While being.. Swift River... his defense of her, when Ice had wanted long-awaited justice...
Triell. Why? How—? It must've been before they left, before they moved, when Ice finally assumed the role of leader himself.. but it hurt. Hadn't he trusted Ice? Had he been ashamed? Why hadn't he said anything—?
Had he been trying to protect Naira from Ice? Protect himself from Ice? Had he not dared trust that Ice would forgive him? Would he have forgiven him?
I am a monster.
When her tale ended, the story of how her mate died for another's stupidity, and how she came to be here—came to Triell's rescue when his children were in dire need, he remained silent.
He was already sitting, but he looked like he might be blown over at any time. He didn't want to hear any more. There wasn't enough space in his head, thoughts swimming in tears and, slowly, drowning, all to the backdrop noise of his heart hammering out its jagged, uneven pulse.
He wanted her to disappear, merge with the fog and go like a ghost, but she was real, tangible, warm. Slowly, he let out a shaking breath. It rose in a white cloud before dissipating, and Ice heaved himself to his feet. He felt beaten; worn. Stupid. It was too late for everything. He was old, she was old, they were all old and many of his best years had been spent in mourning, or just plain gone.
His gaze flicked up, settling on her. No more anger. No more hatred. Only the sadness born from pain and disappointment, from betrayal and self-loathing. "I'm an idiot, am I not?" he said, faintly, one corner of his mouth curving up in a very tired smile.until the ice breaks.
let the stars above shine in your soul