A Changing of the Seasons

[Juno. 1276]

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She ran through the Hinterlands, past the gates and across the water to the vast woods beyond Amaethea’s borders. Her three companions were right on her heels, their gold circlets flickering in the setting sun. This place was familiar to the druid, but new to the others, as they hadn’t followed when Sonna disappeared in these same woods for a year. They only knew that their mother was truly one of them when she returned. They continued to run as the sun set and the moon began to rise; by the time they stopped, it was full and lighting up the night sky. All four struggled to catch their breath as they came to a stop at a particular tree, a small opening at the base leading underneath its roots. The High Priestess placed the butt of Hileia against the ground, the staff to remain as she traveled further inside. She fell to her knees and crawled underneath, her three vulpine falling close behind.

The den was small, clearly not fit for the four of them, but large enough for the elf to get inside comfortably. It was cold and vacant at this point, though it showed signs of once being a warm nest; a home. A small whimper fell from her lips at the feeling of the packed dirt beneath her hands and she soon curled up into a ball. The other three curled up with her, never allowing her to be alone. I failed, didn’t I? Her eyes glowed gold as she sought her companions' words. How can I go back, how can I face them again. The foxes didn’t respond verbally, though did their best to convey a sense of comfort and warmth, doing what their skill set could to reassure the mourning woman. She understood their meaning, and allowed a small smile of gratitude to cross her features. When I return, he’ll be gone. I know that. And maybe that’s for the best. Perhaps his path is different than mine; different from ours. She hummed softly, talking to herself just as much as the others. Perhaps along the way, my path has changed too.

 

She was silent for a long while, basking in the familiarity of the den and the foxes, humming softly as she allowed herself to be calmed by their voices. I’ve changed, haven’t I? I’m not the same anymore. I am a different soul. She lifted her head then, and reached for her satchel, grabbing out a piece of parchment and charcoal. A different soul, that he will not recognize; if he ever returns. Every bird she had sent him always returned in vain, the note still its beak. Every fox she sent to scout the realm also returned with no word. He must be on a different path as well. She wrote her final letter, and could only hope that this time, it reached him. Folded neatly, the mali handed it towards the first fox they raised together, a red fox named Suna; a knowing glance exchanged between the two before the vulpine took off. Suna knew her mission, find her father and deliver the note, no matter how long it may take. And so the priestess laid her head back down and allowed her eyes to come to a close, the two remaining leaving shortly to hunt their meal. She released one last murmur before she was left to rest in the old home.

 

Maybe one day, our paths will cross again.