She had convinced herself that finding him would feel different, there'd be relief maybe, closure. Some grand unraveling of the knot she'd carried in her chest since she left. Instead, when his scent finally drifted through the mist, she froze and her heart stopped first. Then it slammed back into motion hard enough to hurt.

No. The thought was a sharp sting, No, no, no. Because she knew that scent. Every mile she'd traveled, every stranger she'd questioned, every disappointment she'd swallowed, every dead end she'd forced herself through. All of it led here. The wolf standing beneath the trees remained unaware, half hidden by the drifting fog that curled around his legs. He was older, and larger like herself. Marked by scars she didn't recognize; but she would have known him anywhere.

Draugur... a broken word escaped her even as she stood rigid among the grass staring as though looking away might make him disappear. She'd imagined this meeting a thousand different ways, maybe she'd be angry, maybe she'd accuse him, or be triumphant in finally finding him? None of those survived the reality. All that remained was a little sister who had spent years chasing a ghost.

I looked everywhere for you, she managed roughly, she couldn't seem to breathe properly. Every wound she'd spent years stitching shut threatened to split open at once bringing her ebon ears flattened. Carefully Oniria took a single hesitant step forward, followed by another as fear and hope warred so violently within her she felt sick. What the hell happened to you? the question cracked beneath the weight of her guilt.

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