Everything was new to her. Her old home (if she could even call it that) was gone, destroyed by natural wreckage, but it had given her the opportunity to flee an unfair slavery, and she dared not return there now - not after all that had happened. Instead, Ainslie had run, run as fast as her nimble legs could carry her, and now she found herself in a world she did not understand and did not know if she ever could. The cold of the high peaks caused her to shiver, her sparse fur whipped about on her thin body and biting down into her flesh, causing a quiet huff to fog her warm breath around her tapered muzzle as she wandered among the redwood trees, half hoping she wouldn't be discovered by any hostile presences. She was still getting used to the fact that years of her life seemed to have simply vanished from her memory, and even after a year that she did recall, it was still odd to her. She had heard some of the story told, but unfortunately for Ainslie, it had not jogged any memories in her bleak mind, and she remained hopelessly in the dark, repeating words that were foreign on her tongue and heavy in her mouth. When she reached a small clearing in the woods, the slightly underweight female reclined back onto her haunches, her tongue lapping against inky jowls as she glanced around in the cool evening, wondering if it would be easy to find a place to bed down in shelter for the night. "speech"

Behemoth paws would carry him surprisingly nimbly through the terrain. Icy cold wind chilled him to the bone, but he almost preferred it that way. His throat was dry, but it remained that way most of the time. He was parched and famished. Fur clung loosely to his skin, which hung limply on his frame. He hadn't been eating regularly, but then again the man really didn't have much will to live, so why eat? Bones ached as he descended down a small decline in the turf, finding nothing of interest. That was no surprise. Hardly anything interested the beast, not anymore. A single golden eye blinked in an otherwise inky sea of fur and scars, the other forever shut to the world after an attack by the Mortus Sero King in his previous home. Home. It seemed like so long since he'd actually been able to call anywhere home. Dirac had been home, but he'd been unwillingly separated from them, from her. Single eye would blink slowly, abruptly as her face popped into his memory, swimming just before him tantalizingly. The only one he could honestly say he had ever loved, had ever even wanted to love. A sigh would drift past tired lips as he rocked onto his haunches, the wind carrying his scent where it willed. Saliva dripped from slightly agape jaws as his head rotated to allow his field of vision to increase. With much effort, it would spot the figure of a small canine, definitely not full-wolf. Ainslie popped into his head again, but he shook his crown violently. He could not let himself think of her, could not fall into the stupor of memories of her anymore. Another sigh would drift away as the wind shifted, bringing together a strange and familiar scent to his nostrils. Salivation would increase slightly as the scent filtered through his nostrils and into his sensory cortex where it would be decoded as the scent of someone from his past. Not just someone, Ainslie. The man shook his head again. You're going mad. He would utter in a rasped and rustic tone, tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth when he was finished. speech,

The wind was brisk, vehemently raging at her fur and howling in her ears, causing the delicate woman to pin her ears against her skull, her muzzle hunkering down towards her breast as she shivered against the cold. It was a persistent cold, one that seemed to seep into her bones, and she nearly folded in onto herself, shuddering in the snows and sighing quietly. She supposed she ought to find shelter before it got too dark, and she rose, shaking the snow from her thin fur and turning around, only to spot another figure in the shadows. She tilted an ear towards him, struck by a sudden pang of familiarity, but how could that be? She did not know him. Ainslie furrowed her brows and ventured a few paces closer, certain that she had not met this wolf before, but still something nagged at the back of her mind, and she could not seem to push it away, could not convince her mind or her thudding heart that she had seen him before. "Do I know you?" she ventured cautiously, unable to rip her stare away from the one-eyed beast, who she rightly ought to have been afraid of, but Ainslie had never been big on opportunities of fear, and if nothing else, she could at least defend herself to a certain extent, and in any case, he didn't look threatening - at least not yet.

Busy convincing himself that he did not know her, and that she could not possibly be Ainslie, he didn't take much note of her standing, turning, and gazing at him appraisingly. His mind reeled with the possibilities as he tried desperately to reign it in, knowing he was getting ahead of himself and only setting himself up for failure. There was no way this was Ainslie. She was miles away - if she was even still alive. The last he'd known of her had been when she was pregnant. Carrying his pups. He tried not to think of that, of the pups he'd wanted but never got to know - or even love. The golden orb would flit over her curiously, noting now that she was staring and moving closer. As she did so, she became clearer and easier to see. Her frame looked very much like Ainslie's, and she even moved like Ainslie. Eyes were the same blinding orange, frame was the same coyote-cross. The only differences were that this she-wolf cross was desperately underweight and possibly mangy by the loss of fur he could see. Was there any chance in the world this was her? What were the odds? The man would stand on ceremony as she questioned him, the hair along his spine standing on end as her voice met his ears. It had to be her, it sounded just like her. Ainslie? A tentative step was taken, and then another, and another until he was a yard closer to her than he had been. His movements were careful, collected, and altogether unlike he would move in the presence of any other wolf. Ears flicked forward from their usual pinned-back position, eager to know if this was the woman he loved, the woman he'd pledged himself to a year or more ago. Her question would remain unanswered, but he was certain that if her name really was Ainslie it wouldn't be necessary to answer it. She would know just as he did, if it was her. speech,

He said her name - her name - and the slender woman tensed slightly, her ears twisting back uncertainly as she stared at him, eyelids narrowing around the orange orbs. He drew nearer, and she backed a step for each forward motion he took, wary about this male who seemed to know her, though she was still convinced that she most certainly did not know him. "H-how do you know my name?" she queried, her voice wavering and uncertain. She could not take her eyes off of him, not now, for she was extraordinarily wary in this large wolf's presence, and a slight shiver slithered down her body. Could it be that she knew him, that he was some memory of her past? Oh, if only she could remember! It was times like these that she wished she knew what had happened to her, but the torture of not knowing was eating away at her, and she was indeed considerably emaciated. It was not something she had intended to do, but time had not been kind to the hybrid, and the less she ate, the more difficult hunting became, causing a dangerous cycle that would sooner or later lead to her death. Her toes curled warily into the snows below her nimble frame as the slender woman stared up at the wolf, her brows furrowed and expression guarded.

He was waiting, waiting for her to burst into tears, to run to him and sigh and for everything to be right in the world again. He was even ready for her to bristle, to yell and scream and throw a tantrum, to beat him, to bruise him, to bloody him to a pulp. It didn't matter what her reaction was, so long as the woman reacted. And react she did. Each advance he took, she retreated from him, suddenly seeming fearful of his presence. She stammered, confusion and uncertainty ringing loud and clear in her vocals. Anthrax slumped slightly, as if he were suddenly unable to withstand his own weight. Ears would flick backward, pinning against his skull in sadness. She didn't remember? How could she not remember? Ainslie, I.. It's me, Anthrax. He spoke quickly, with urgency and purpose. Perhaps he looked different, perhaps she just hadn't noticed. Maybe she was even suffering from bad sight. That must be it. She couldn't have forgotten.. couldn't have forgotten him. He took a step forward again, but just once this time, unwilling to frighten her off before she truly realized who he was. She would piece it together now, now that he'd offered his name. He had thought she would have understood before he'd even given his name, but he supposed they were both getting older and possibly none-the-wiser. Who knew what had happened to her in his absence, perhaps she had suffered an accident that rendered her unable to recall memories of him. That would be the worst tragedy of all. He tried not to think of that. A sigh would pass from his lips as his tongue raked across his ashen lips, trying to moisten them. Please remember. speech,

She watched his weight shudder, a supple sigh towards the earth as though her indicating that she did not recognize him had physically pained him - but why? She watched, cautious, wary, uncertain and unknowing, her muscles tense, allowing him to make that single stride towards her without movement this time, but still visibly uncertain, her hardened facial features an indication that she would prefer him to keep his distance. He said her name again, and it was clear that he knew her, but still she didn't understand, didn't know who this hellion was or why he knew her name and seemed so intent to make her remember something she did not. "I'm sorry... I don't... I don't remember," she murmured, her skull shaking slightly as she stared at him, brows furrowed and eyes wide. She knew her memory had blacked out her past, and she could do little but believe that this wolf did indeed know her, but there was nothing she could do - no remedy or concoction she had tried - to bring back the memories of her past, and the black wall in her mind made her wonder if perhaps she simply didn't want to know what had happened before. All the same, the burning desire to know who this male was flared up inside of her, and she scrutinized him all the more for it, as though she thought staring harder at him might make his image resurface in her mind.

Mind would warp and remember what had happened, their past and now what he assumed would be their future. She would remember him, she just had to. Perhaps it would just take his name to bring her to reality, to make her sure that it was him. The confusion in her eyes read differently, but he didn't pay much attention to that. Eyes roved over her frame hungrily, as if staring at her might somehow revitalize him into the man he had been a year ago before they'd been separated. He had to admit, even that was a blur to him. Then her words came, and the skin around his muzzle tightened instinctively. He was angry. How could she pretend she didn't remember? Was this her way of brushing him off? Was she not willing to give it another go? Did she not love him anymore. He would advance rapidly, closing the distance between them, hoping she wouldn't retreat. You don't remember. Well that's convenient, isn't it? A growl would reverberate in his trachea. Do you think me a fool, Ainslie? Tail whipped behind him, anger bubbling in his veins. Why was she toying with him like this? Why was she treating him as if she couldn't even be bothered enough to remember him? Snarl ripped from his lips as he pivoted around her, circling her like a bird of prey. Hulking figure would tower over her as his single golden eye remained pinned on her, ears slicking back over his skull. Saliva dripped from the downturned corners of his lips as they curled up slightly to reveal a centimeter of yellowed fangs. speech,

He was suddenly angry, venomous, advancing towards her with such tenacity that she had no time to flee. Instead, she hunkered towards the earth, leaning back and coiling towards the ground in a sudden nervous posture, her ears pulled back uncertainly upon her skull, catching his angered words, so unkind. Ainslie had become a relatively meek creature in her constant state of confusion, and had no inclination to lash out or defend herself, and simply hoped he would realize she was telling the truth - she did not know him. Her muscles shuddered beneath taut flesh and her tail coiled between her hind limbs as Ainslie peered up at this stranger - Anthrax - with a posture of subservience and ultimate submission. Do you think me a fool? She suddenly remembered when she had first met (or first remembered meeting) Torvald, and how he had said those very words, and she wondered if maybe this wolf hated her too - what had she done to so anger the world? "P-please... just let me go," she whispered, her voice shaky as her skull bowed between her forepaws. "Whatever I did... I'm sorry." It was the best she could offer in such a state of confusion, and hoped it would sate the prowling beast's hungry appetite for vengeance.

He was beyond infuriated. How could she do this to him? How could she toy with his emotions like this? He knew he'd done her wrong, multiple times even.. but to act like she didn't even know him? That was taking it too far. As she recoiled, pivoting to the earth and cowering, Anthrax's brow raised suspiciously. She certainly was putting on an act, wasn't she? Golden eye would set upon her, fury gleaming through the portal to his soul. How could she. But he soon quieted, his rage quelled for the time being. Perhaps.. perhaps she wasn't lying. Perhaps she really couldn't remember him. But what were the odds of that? You really don't remember, do you? A sigh would slip from his lips as he retreated from her, unable to look upon her confused features any longer. He would pivot away, settling to his haunches with her back to her. If she ran, he would follow, but for now he just needed to think. The man shuddered, overwhelmed with grief at the woman he'd lost, found, and apparently lost again - this time not physically. How could you forget me? He would utter, hanging his head - defeated. Another sigh would echo from sullen jaws as he waited for her reaction. She would probably run, in which case he'd have to follow her, but she also might try harder to remember. Something might come back, some glimpse of him, some fragment of memory lost. He hoped for the latter, but planned on the former. speech,

Her skull shook slowly at his question, and Ainslie lilted one ear forward, watching the male cautiously though she allowed herself to relax slightly since he seemed less angry than before. She wished she could understand his crazed emotions, the reasoning for his sudden swing between want and loathing and apathy, but Ainslie could do little more than stare, her hips lowering slowly to the earth. She thought he was going to leave until the muscular wolf plopped down, now refusing to look at her, and while she was abhorrently curious about his behavior, she could not bring herself to slink nearer to him - but nor could she will herself to flee. "I'm... sorry. I don't... I don't know why... or how... I don't remember anything from my first two years in Refuge Point... at least, I think that's how long it was." Her lips pursed as she said this, somewhat wary as to how he might respond to this. Again, she was struck by the desire to know who this Anthrax was and why he seemed so angry that she did not remember him - what had she done to cause so much emotional strife in this male? Still, that nagging thought that she somehow knew him persisted in her mind, but she could not unlock the memories, just as she had been unable to access all the others before, and she sighed quietly before pressing him quietly, "Who are you?"

He braced himself, ready to pivot on a moment's notice and chase after her. He may have been the one to pull away, but she wasn't going anywhere without him. He needed answers - demanded them. Although in her state he wondered if she could ever supply them. He would remain turned away from her as she spoke, stammering a form of an explanation. So she at least knew where she used to call home. He was split between anger and sadness, unable to determine which he would prefer to be. Biting words would echo from dripping lips. Well that puts a damper on things, A whole two years.. gone. He had wanted to ask her about Refuge Point, had wanted to know how the children were. There had been children, but who knew if they had survived.. thrived. Did they look like him? Did they look like her? It seemed he might never know. She would ask a question of her own. I was your mate. Frame would turn to face her, rocking back onto his haunches. But I suppose passion went when your memory did. Pain, suffering, it seemed it had taken over his life. There was no hope anymore, not now that she couldn't remember him. He had nothing left. His head turned to the side, bringing his right eye directly into the center of her face, where he watched her closely for any sign, any fragment of a memory. He needed something, anything. speech,

She was lost, confused and uncertain, wary of this wolf who seemed so fixated on her, so demanding of answers and understanding when she had nothing to give him. She was empty and broken, lost and without cause - a hapless wanderer who had fallen into his presence by chance and now found herself more dazed than ever. And then he gave her his answer, hissed that they had been mates - mates - and she stared, dumbfounded, her ears swinging back against her skull as she stared at this herculean beast she may have one proclaimed to love. Had she loved him? Even this she could not answer, but his behaviors made sense now, his agony at the loss of her memory visible, and in that moment, she hated her handicap more than she ever had. "I... I'm sorry," she murmured, her lips coiling in a frown. She didn't know what else to say, didn't know how to wipe that look of misery off his face, and even if he was little more than a stranger to her now, she didn't like the look of pure torturous need that had ravaged him and brought the beast to his knees. Her chin tucked down towards her chest, uncomfortable under his scrutinizing glare, but she had nothing more to say - nothing to offer him. She was not the woman he love. Not anymore.

He could not imagine what she could have endured that would have stolen her memory, made her forget him. They had once been so much in love, had once had so much passion for each other that they could have sparked a fire with one glance. And now, now they were broken, severed, left without a cause. He wanted to force her to remember, force her to go back to before when things had been so good. Before he'd lost his eye, before Torvald and everything else. A snarl ripped from his larynx, vibrating his trachea with a sickening vibrato. Sorry doesn't cut it. He didn't want things to be this way, would not allow them to be so! He wanted her to remember, and remember she would. One way or another, this woman would remember him. What do you remember? Perhaps there was something still there, some fragment he could rebuild the vase with, some obscure piece that would somehow tie everything back together and set them back to where they had been. She looked away from him, ducking her vision to her paws. Look at me, he took a threatening step forward. Look at me dammit! A single yellow eye would bore a hole right through her forehead. speech,