in another life

She had been gone a long while now, lost in seclusion and finding the woman she had once been. She felt liberated -- freed from her crazed behaviors and erratic, depressive tendencies; she was closer to the past creature she had been, bold and brash and brave, having found a sort of happy medium between the two. But she could not live on her own forever; her life was incomplete without Deteste, and she could not survive indefinitely without him. It was only after many months on her own that she felt well enough to return, slipping along these familiar grounds and hoping that he was still here -- still waiting for her. A part of her would not have been surprised to find him gone, and as she edged alongside the familiar borderline, she was relieved (enthralled, even) to detect his scent upon it, fresh in an indicator that he was still here, though if he lurked still for her or for another reason she could not know. It was with caution that she slid among the trees, weaving among them like an old friend, alert to her surroundings and silently seeking out the man who had always given her faith -- and given her life.