Arcus hadn't been too far away, but he'd been far enough. First, he left his son, the hardest decision he had ever made, and perhaps something others wouldn't understand. Then, he left his feather and his scent as a way to lead her to Typhoon. If it would take too long, he would wander closer to the pack, leaving other signs to entice her away from her home, to find his son and give him a life Arcus never could. And then, he disappeared, faded into the background but never far. He always knew where his son was, kept an eye on his safety. Typhoon knew not to leave where he was, because Shaye would be there soon, and if too much time passed Arcus would catch a small prey animal and drop it nearby for his son to take, but he never showed himself. He couldn't. After the boy's mother left, too fragile to care for a child and a dying man, Arcus was left with a choice to make. And he made it, even if the execution was sloppy. A braver man may have taken his son directly to the only woman he trusted, but Arcus was not a brave man. He was irrational, impulsive, and on limited time. He didn't want Shaye to see him this way, didn't want to disrupt her memory of him. So he kept to the sidelines, watching at a distance as she collected Typhoon and his feather, and disappeared back to her home. And then? Well, he was supposed to leave. He really was. That was the plan. Ensure Typhoon was taken care of, and then he would leave to let this sickness take over his body. Perhaps he would venture back to Obsidian, his one true home, and die there, alone. Always alone, but at least he'd be at the water, under the stars, on the lookout rock where he and Shaye had watched the storm and where he had spent time with Astrea, and where he and Voltage had fought, and where he and Glacier had tried to patch things up. Too much time had passed now, and his irrationality, his impulsiveness, his very being had left him alone. And alone he would die. Yet, he couldn't leave. Not when he saw her face, not when he heard her voice from where he had hid, not after that loneliness rang so loud in his chest if felt like thunder. So, he stayed, here at this little lake, hoping to see her again and coming to terms that perhaps this is where he would die, as close to her as he could get. He sat by the lake, staring down at his tired, old, mangled expression, and sighed. The daylight had faded to a deep, quiet night, and fireflies hung above the water, illuminating the area around him. At least it was pretty... "Burn Baby Burn"

She had promised the boy that she would find his father, and that alone would have spurred her onwards, enticed her to keep her promise. Who Typhoon was, and who she searched for, that changed everything. There was a touch of desperation in her searching, a franticness in her searching. Typhoon had told her that his father was sick, that he had left him here for Shaye to find. That told Shaye more then, perhaps, it told the boy. Why else would Arcus leave his son to his childhood friend? Why would he leave him here, and walk away. Not hello, no goodbye, only silence. Terrible, ominous, silence. A Feather that as far as she knew, he had never taken off rom the day she had gifted it to him. Perhaps that was his goodbye, his apology, so much and so little. Her insides tightened into a pained knot, and if she thought too hard on why Arcus had done these things, she knew she would struggle to breathe. Her life might have moved on, she might have children of her own, a pack to care for; but the ties of her childhood where still inside of her, a bond she didn’t know if she could ever let go of. Pushing past the pain, she moved through the territories surrounding Abaven, leaving Typhoon in the safety of her pack lands. She started with the place she had found the feather, dropped down on her knees to sniff the surface for anything she might have missed on her first go around. The very feather she had found here was tucked gently behind her ear, fanning beside the blue of the feather she always wore. It left a gentle hint of her scent on her, and if she turned her head too fast, occasionally she would catch it. Perhaps it was foolish of her to bring it, its scent a distraction. It didn’t matter, she could never leave it behind, just as she could not leave behind the faces of her childhood. Dusk arrived, but she was not yet ready to give up her search, her paws lead her to the lake that sat tranquility behind her territory, she found herself skirting its shore, her eyes lost upon the fireflies that flittered and danced above its surface. Their lights cast reflections on the water, like hundreds of stars, moving, dancing, alive. She stopped her pacing, turning fully towards the water, and wished instead of stars, she could be seeing a storm within their pattern. A reminder, a memory. She couldn’t say exactly what caught her attention, a trick of the light perhaps, a hint, a whisper in her mind. She turned, and found him there, not far from her, his face turned to the lake. She knew without knowing how, something inside of her spoke of her connection to this stranger, this did not know, yet knew better then most. She felt as though she was in a dream as she drifted towards him, her steps soft on the cool grass, the moonlight faint and the light of the fireflies haphazardous at best. It was enough to outline him in a faint golden glow, but she knew he was no mirage. She came to a stop not far from him, her voice soft, heartbroken and full of hope. “Arcus?” "Burn Baby Burn"

I'm just the boy inside the man Not exactly who you think I am Trying to trace my steps back here again So many times. He had been staring at the lake for long, his mind drifting from his reflection and his thoughts to memories. They moved through him, a montage of pain and bittersweetness. He remembered all the times he was too angry to think, and all the times he wish he did. Remembered the moment he had left Donostrea because he didn't fit in, only now to see that he had refused to fit in a place that was perfect for him. Everything slipped by, slowly, every moment he wished had never happened, and every moment he wished had lasted longer. That storm he and Shaye had watched should have lasted forever. He was broken from his thoughts by his name spoken so sweetly on a voice he had never thought he'd hear again. And for a moment, he froze, his one seeing eye locked on the side of his mangled face, a face she had never seen. He had disappeared not long after he had lost his eye, Donostrea crumbling had been the catalyst to his leaving and disappearing from this place. With a sigh, he slowly resigned himself. There was no time left now, and if it scared her, well, he wouldn't have long to worry about it. He slowly turned towards her, this woman he hadn't seen since his youth, and the one person he had ever truly loved. He was older now, way older, more grey flecked his face than had been there before, and the one side, the side he had lost his eye, was still so ruined. It had never healed properly, and though was a very long lasting reminder of his terrible impulsiveness. And yet, he looked at her tenderly, his expression soft. "Shaye.." He breathed quietly, his voice shaky and weak in his emotion. He hadn't wanted this, hadn't wanted to worry her, or make her frantic, but he hadn't known how to do all this in a way that wouldn't have hurt her. He didn't say anything further, he just stared at her, wondering what she would do. What would she feel. Would she be angry, disgusted? I'm just the speck inside your head You came and made me who I am I remember where it all began so clearly. "Burn Baby Burn"

A part of her wasn’t convinced that he was real, that the star-bathed form of him was ethereal. Or an illusion, a reminder of what she desperately sought. When he turned, she was forced to suck in a breath, shocked at how the beauty of him had been changed. The scars across his face where utterly unexpected, and brought forth a feeling or rage inside of her. She sucked in another breath, trying to steady the tide of emotions that threaten to overwhelm her. From shock, to anger, to relief and fear. Fear at the age she could see in his last good eye, how that age held him, ravaged him. She still remembered his as a youthful man, full of passion. The softness in his expression did a lot to dull the shock, to wash over the emotion with pain and affection. “It’s really you” she whispered, feeling an odd need to touch, to confirm what the senses of her eyes where telling her. She moved closer, drawing in the scent of him, the electric taste that was his natural aroma. She moved until she was close enough to touch her nose to his cheek, shocked most of all at how she had to bend down to do so. He had once towered over her, and her little form had always looked up to him in wonder. "Burn Baby Burn"