It had been a season and a half since he had returned home. It still seemed surreal, and the nightmares hadn't stopped. He still floated as if in a fog, but it was getting better. Something had changed the last few days, though. He wasn't sure what, but he loved it. It was as if he could see and think clearly again. It was... nice. He didn't realize how bad he had been affected until it went away, and he could see it was really bad.

He strolled through the plains now; eyes on the lookout for last-minute herbs that were growing. He'd not been productive for a while, holed up in his den; while he knew the pack was kind and giving him space, he also knew that he had to start contributing again. And while the fog was lifted, he was going to take advantage of that.

"Speech" "You"

art by wise-crack

She'd taken to hiding in her den during the day and coming out at night when the rest of the pack was asleep, but today she felt terribly hungry after failing to catch something the night before. Her stomach hurt too much to wait it out until late at night. She stepped out of her den, casting wary glances to make sure nobody was around as she sought to quickly make her way out towards the border. The right side of her face was still bandaged, but it was almost healed for the most part. She hadn't really looked at that side of her face for some time, but the pain had lessened more and more as it healed. Still, she occasionally felt ghost pains from time to time and sometimes it felt excruciating to the point she had to take something to sleep through it. Today though, the pain wasn't too bad and she had taken some medicine to dull it.

She walked quickly, body slinking along the ground as she tried to go unnoticed. Checking over her shoulder a few times, she didn't realize she was headed straight into the path of someone else. It wasn't until she passed through some bushes and onto the other side that she spotted him, and as soon as she did she turned her head away to try and hide her injury. Crap! What to do now? She was sure he had seen her already, and as much as she wanted to flee the way she had come, it was already too late. "H-hello," She greeted meekly. Maybe he was busy, and would go about his business and she could return to her den..

Huh? Movement caught his attention, and the taller wolf looked up in time to see a slim wolf emerge from the grasses and bushes on the far side. Almost immediately his eyes were drawn to the bandages that swathed her face; they were done by a rather capable healer, he could tell immediately - before she turned away. He frowned somewhat - why turn away? Why hide? Was she one of those hurt in the fire? He smiled gently in return to her stuttering greeting. "Hello," he greeted softly, studying her. "Why do you hide?" This question was asked very softly, very gently. "There's no need to hide."

Even if it was destroyed, even if it was a burn, that didn't matter, not to him - and it shouldn't to anyone. It was an injury, and something that no one should judge for. Perhaps it was because her own mother had been maimed across the face since she was a yearling - younger than him now, wow - but he never minded it, and he couldn't stand it when others were rude because of scarring.

"Speech" "You"

art by wise-crack

Instead of him ignoring her, he greeted her. Not only that, but he asked why she was trying to hide...that there was no reason to. She tried to stifle the whine that came up, ears flattening further against her head as she practically hugged the ground. Had things been different, she would have been completely different. More outgoing, more responsive and jovial and unafraid. But between the night she had made a fatal mistake and the night of the fire, she had changed completely. "Because..." Because...what? She was hideous now? A monster? Afraid of the stares and the possible whispers?

She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, desperately trying to control the urge to cry right then and there. "I'm a monster..." She finally managed to whisper.

Aiden's heart broke as the woman sank into the ground with a whine. She seemed at a loss for words for a long minute, and Aiden waited patiently for the answer. When that answer came, his own ears flattened at the words, and he too whined. That was when he dropped down to the ground and crept forward himself, aiming to nuzzle the woman in comfort, if allowed. "No, you aren't." he murmured, voice firm. "You are hurt. You aren't a monster. You see... monsters are like those slavers, from the slave raid. The inside is what determines a monster, not the outside. No scar, no marking, no anything can make someone a monster. You just have a visible mark of your history. What's underneath that bandage will be a sign of your journey and of what you've had to face in life. It tells a story. It is part of who you are, and that's okay." He paused, before trying to poke her again with his muzzle. "I see a scared, and scarred, young woman. I see a woman who faced a disaster and came out alive. I can't imagine anyone seeing a monster when they look at you." And if someone did - they needed a swift reminder of what scars represented.

"Speech" "You"

art by wise-crack

She was so afraid of turning to look at the male face to face. She hadn't yet come to terms with the deformity that the fire had caused her, but as she pressed herself to the ground and shut her eyes, she felt contact from the other. It made her flinch and shudder with the unexpected contact, but she didn't pull away. "No, you aren't." She kept her eyes closed for a long moment as he spoke, only opening a bit when he paused. She listened to every word he said, and as much as she wanted to believe him, her insecurities now seemed to weigh her down like a heavy blanket that she couldn't shake off. She didn't even want to take the bandages off when it was fully healed...which...by now, it likely was. She had already seen for herself what her face looked like now, and the sight of it had scared her so much that she was afraid others would treat her like a monster. See her like one. Avoid her like she was some diseased creature. She hadn't interacted with anyone in Abaven since she joined with the exception of her brothers, and asides from the boy in her company now, she felt like they would further go out of their way to avoid her.

He touched her again, and once more she flinched but...not as much as she had before. Swallowing, she stared at her forepaws...not yet ready to look at him. "Y-you really...believe that?" She asked softly. She wasn't bashing his belief in any way. She was just doubtful that others would see it the way he did. Of course, nobody had proven that she'd be called a monster and everything else in her head...but..."I...I deserve this...and if they call me a monster...I deserve it..." She whispered. She turned a little to look at him, eyes heavy with sadness. "I did a terrible thing..."

His heart hurt as she flinched, but she didn't move away - which was good. Still, though, he withdrew when he felt that, giving some space. He knew she could just not be pulling away due to fear, and he wasn't going to cause an increase of fear. Nope, nada, not at all. Still, her eyes opening as he spoke after the first pause was progress, and he made sure not to make eye contact, keeping his gaze diverted slightly. He wasn't sure how much of his words were getting through to her, but she hoped many of them were. No one deserved to believe themselves a monster. He smiled gently as she asked her hesitating question. "Yes, I truly do believe that," he answered. It was obvious to him; deeds and personality made a monster... not looks. At her next words though - his head tilted, and he listened closely. He wasn't sure what she did, but clearly she regretted it. "Hey," he said softly, trying to get her attention more on him. "I don't care what you did. Why? Because you clearly regret it. You feel sorrow about it. You look like you wish it hadn't happened... which means even if you did a terrible thing, you still aren't a monster. A monster would be someone who did something terrible and relished in that terrible thing. Like someone who hurt someone innocent, like if you were to try to purposefully kill a puppy... and be happy about it. And do it again. THAT is a monster."

"Yes, I truly do believe that." She sighed softly, blue-green gaze looking away from him as she lied there. He was...so optimistic. She had been too before, but...not so much anymore. There was a time where she was in his position cheering someone else up. Now she was the one that had gotten her wings clipped all because of a stupid mistake. All because she hadn't paid attention. She swallowed back the tears that threatened to form when she thought about it again. It was like every time it came to mind it was a wound reopened. "Hey," The males soft voice tried to tug her thoughts away. It worked...a little. She glanced at him, watching him as he continued to speak. "I don't care what you did..." Her breath hitched a little. Oh...if only he knew...She said nothing as he continued, however. The girl deciding to listen with a quiet mind until... "Like someone who hurt someone innocent, like if you were to try to purposefully kill a puppy," There. That's what did it. She visibly flinched away from him, ears pressing tightly against her skull and she quickly turned her head away from him. She could feel the tears prickling at her eyes, threatening to spill over as the memory came in full force. He said monsters were like the people who did those things on purpose and enjoyed it...well, she hadn't enjoyed it. And it had been an honest mistake. A very, honest, fatal mistake. A child was dead because of her. Because of her inattentiveness. Because of her inexperience. "I-I didn't mean to do it...I just tried to help..." She croaked before the tears came. She shuddered as she tried to quietly sob into herself, the pain in her soul making it unbearable to deal with. She hated that she was showing such weakness to a stranger, but the hate for herself was even stronger then that. "I'm a monster, and nothing will change what I did to that child..." She cried. She was such in emotional turmoil she didn't even realize what she just said. But...her secret was out now... "Speak"

He smiled a bit to himself as she glanced at him. Good, it was working - that's what he needed to happen. This was good. Even if she looked away after - she was listening, and it seemed to be working... that is, until he said his last phrase. As she flinched away, he reared back in surprise, eyes widening in shock. What? What was happening? Why did - why did that cause such a reaction? His eyes narrowed back in thought, as his brain scrambled to find words, to do something, but he had no idea. He had no idea what was happening or what was going on. He wanted to know, but also didn't want to ask.

Turns out, it wasn't needed to ask, and his eyes widened once more at her words. Within moments, he had connected the dots. Kill a puppy... And she didn't mean to do it, and had just tried to help. Oh, no. Oh nonononono. Oh no. He had - he had chosen one of the most outlandish things he could think of! He didn't realize - he didn't think - that this could be it. Oh no. Oh by the gods, what had he done? Horror filled his eyes, but not at her, at himself; oh, he couldn't have known, but what a mistake to make! And he had no idea with her sobs, and within moments she was crying out, and this time he flinched at her harsh words at herself.

Okay - he had to stop focusing on his mess up. He had to focus - what to do now? How to help? He took a deep breath for himself, and edged forward again, torn between just nudging her like he did before or giving her a solid hug. For him, if he were stuck in memories - well, a hug would be nice. A deep, enveloping hug/ cuddle from someone who cared. So... okay, he could do that. With careful paw steps, he stood, and turned around so he was next to her, and then laid down. As he did, he tried to curl inward, around her much, much smaller body, in the exact mimic of what he pictured as comforting in his mind, and what would be relieving to him.

He was quiet for a long minute before he spoke. "Nothing will change what happened, no," he spoke softly, regret and sorrow tinging his voice. "But you've said it yourself. You didn't mean to... you tried to help, and I see a woman torn by it. Look. You're crying. A monster wouldn't cry over messing up. A monster would be laughing, and celebrating." He paused again, his voice dropping to a mere whisper. "Nothing will change what happened, but you still aren't a monster. You made a mistake. One that will hurt you, always, but that still doesn't make you a monster."

"Speech" "You"

art by wise-crack

She cried into herself, her body practically trying to tightly wrap into itself as she cried. She hated herself for what she'd done, mistake or not. And when she felt a body against hers, she fought the urge to run away. To hide in her den and never come out. To consume the herbs she knew could stop all of her painful thoughts. But...she didn't move away from him. She hadn't felt the comfort of someone else in so long that despite her desperation and fear of herself, of what others might think of her...she stayed. She cried still, but she stayed. And even when he spoke, she listened through the pain and the self-hatred. He said she wasn't a monster...but she couldn't help but feel like one. She had killed a child, torn it away from its mother because of a stupid mistake. She had been punished for it over and over. First, a broken leg...a small price from the childs mother. Then the unending loneliness...and then her face. She knew it was but a small price to pay for the life lost...and she felt like karma would just keep coming back for her until she was nothing but a shell of who she used to be. But...as he spoke, she knew he made sense. Sure, she felt like a monster...but it had been a mistake. She hadn't meant to kill the boy. She beat herself up for it every single day, unable to stop thinking about it. She had run as far as she could from the scene, but the image of the seizing boy and his death was burned in her mind. The she-wolfs grief and anger and hatred towards her forever burned in her memory. The ghost pains in her leg and face would always remain. She turned her head then, burying it in the comfort of his chest as she quietly cried into him. He didn't see her as a monster...perhaps nobody did. But...he was also the only one that knew her secret. The one she had vowed to take to her grave...maybe she still would. And maybe he'd be the only one to ever know her truth. "I can't help but...feel like a monster...the pain won't go away...the memory won't...I can't stop reliving it...everyday...I see him..." She pressed her face further into him if he allowed, "How can I live with myself after that..." "Speak"

He didn't realize how tense he was when he first wrapped himself around her in that comforting gesture, but when he noticed she was staying, and not moving, he relaxed immensely, the tension leaving his body. Phew. Good. It was something that he would have wanted, for sure, but it was an absolute guess if she had wanted it, and thank goodness he had guessed right. He wasn't sure what everything going through her mind was, but the important part was not that - it was that she stayed, and that he could continue to offer comfort in the way he knew best: kindness and physical affection. HE wasn't sure if she was listening, but he hoped. He hoped beyond belief that his words were getting through to her, because this was absolutely tearing him up on the inside.

... because it wasn't the first time he had to comfort someone like this. All different reasons, of course, and from both males and females, but he felt the same as he did then: the emotions of the one he was comforting bit into him deeply, and an overwhelming sorrow pressed into him. But this time - he might be able to do something. There, he could offer comfort. Sometimes, herbs to ease the pain. But not much else. Here... maybe more. After all, healing went beyond the physical body. It was mental, too, and maybe he could help her heal that way, too.

Once again, he tensed up and his eyes grew wide when Novel moved, and buried her head in his chest. He looked down at the black-and-white wolf with surprise, before a soft smile grew on his face, and his chest warmed - and not just from the warmth of Novel, either, but from a genuine happiness and relief at, well, helping. With a quiet sigh, he lowered his head, and laid it across her neck and shoulder. This time, he didn't say anything, but acted as that rock, that comfort, that person who was just there, and he did so happily, with a quiet contentment. Because that trust that she was putting in him made him feel treasured and valued as well, and that reciprocating comfort of a freely given embrace wasn't one that he had felt in a long time. Not one where he felt hope.

When she started speaking, he shifted slightly, his muzzle turning towards the back of her head. It was only a slight movement, and very not necessary, but it did communicate the fact he was listening. The pain - not going away. The memories not going away. He knew those feelings all too well, and they were invasive, painful, and heart-breaking. "You live with yourself by saving more lives than you take," he told her quietly. "You live with yourself by trying as hard as you can, every day, to save a life. To help someone. That someone can be you, too, but the important thing is helping someone. That little boy, wherever he is, isn't blaming you. Next time you see him... picture him playing. Picture him playing with all the stillborn puppies that have been born. With all the puppies that have succumbed to illness. Picture him in a field, surrounded by other puppies to play with. And while he doesn't have his mother there yet, he's surrounded by many wolves who died during whelp and could never see their puppies. But instead, they have him, and those like him. Picture that instead. Every time." He wasn't sure where the image came from, but it was one that he imagined whenever a puppy died. From a stillborn puppies to an older puppy, he always pictured them as playing, happy, surrounded by other puppies and male and female wolves who died before they could raise their own children. Happy, cheerful, pain-free. Missing mom or dad, but understanding as well. It was a pleasant image, and one he had used numerous times himself. Perhaps it could help her as well.

"Speech" "You"

art by wise-crack