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Description

In her dreams, the pace of the world was agonizingly slow. She was out there, well beyond Wavechaser shore, swimming under the light of a sliver of the moon. And she was alone. Wet all the way through, her long coat weighing her down, the spray of the salt water battering her face as the wind whipped over her mercilessly. No Twyla in sight. And no Serren, either. No one from Mhor. Not even one of those monstrous killing wolves that had followed them over the cliff’s edge. Out here, up here, in her mind, Solune was utterly alone.

The constant rocking, the push and pull of the memory of waves made her feel sick. Vertigo, from a long night of running, of falling, of swimming—and drowning—and ending up… well, she couldn’t remember the events following her decision to drown the wolf that threatened to drown her sister. In all honesty, she couldn’t believe she had made it out alive, and apparently of her own volition. According to the others, she had made it as far as dry land before collapsing completely. Allegedly, Twyla and Serren hid with her among seals until they were found the next day. Morning or afternoon? By whom? The details eluded her, she was still half asleep and the world was still spinning when she was conscious enough to hear the tale.

That first moment of wakefulness was days ago. Days after they had plunged into the ocean to escape certain death. She had slept for entire day cycles—how many exactly, she wasn’t sure. She spent another two full days in Deborah’s and Cahal’s care as they tried to rid her of the cough that continued to set fire to her lungs. She was still technically healing from the ordeal, but she needed to get out of the den, to stretch her legs and find someplace that wasn’t teeming with Mhorians asking how she was doing. But the farthest she could go was the edge of the Hollow.

She sat with her back to her slumbering packmates up on the hill, under the protection of the rocky overhang. Too paranoid not to watch the woods, she kept her eyes on the still, evening snow, laid fresh that afternoon, still without trails or tracks.

But she could hear someone approach from behind. Figuring it was Cahal's heavy footsteps, her ears dropped a little. She could have used a few more moments alone in the dark before being brought back to the den. But when she turned around, she was met with a face that looked just like hers. Only, it had a significant scratch on it.

Twyla's wound would heal over quickly, but remain scarred for years. The Mhorians would actually be able to tell them apart now–at least from the front.

Solune's hackles were up, but only in surprise. She lowered them and turned back away to continue her cool stare out into the wilds of the Brokenveil.

"Solune."

They hadn't spoken together, not directly. Not since that night. Twyla healed much faster and aided Solune, only checking to see if or when she was conscious or lucid. When she started to come out of her long sleeping spells, Twyla made herself scarce again. Solune didn't remember seeing her around the Clerics' den, not at all.

"Solune, can we talk?"

The Cleric heaved a sigh. Ever since she left their homepack, she had decided that she was born the only girl, that she didn't even have a twin. It was the easiest way to block out the hurt and betrayal Twyla had caused. Just pretend she didn't even exist.

And then when she came to Mhor, revealing herself… really, it started with running into Solazar, having to admit what had happened. She couldn't pretend anymore. So she instead settled for hatred. Hot, seething hatred that kept Twyla out of her way, out of her line of sight. It worked like a charm for months, but as the Hive wolves, as they were apparently called, began to encroach further and further into Mhorian territory, serving the pack in a vacuum became more and more difficult. They needed to collect herbs - together. They needed to eat - together. They needed to survive – together. All of Solune's pretending, and all of her hatred, was slowly starting to fray. To unwind. Ever since her confrontation with Alderwen. This was bound to happen.

"Speak," the Cleric replied hoarsely as she closed her eyes. She was too tired to try and deflect or argue. …And maybe a part of her actually finally wanted to hear what her sister had to say.

Twyla stood behind her twin for a moment before settling down into the snow, sitting with her shoulders hunched. It wasn't that her sister's response had taken her by surprise, but there was just so much of the conversation that she had wanted to say for so long. It weighed on her heavily, every day. The objective truth. The truth that was different from Solune's truth.

"You know I don't love Zuke," Twyla started. Simple. And also not.

It made sense, well enough. Twyla was alone, after all. But it didn't provide any sense of relief, just more questions. More questions Solune wasn't sure she wanted answered. The Cleric cleared her throat before responding, "I might suspect he would be here, if you did."

"I never-"

"But he loved you."

Twyla couldn't exactly speak for Zuke's stupidity, try as she might. "He was confused. He's an idiot," she replied, hopeful her sister might see him for the throwaway error that he was. Solune gave pause, rather than retorting. A sigh of relief escaped Twyla. At least that much they could both agree on. But it was the first excuse that made her senses tingle with anticipation as to what Solune was really thinking. Zuke wasn't supposed to be confused. He was supposed to be wed to Solune, plain and simple. "I understand why you were upset…"

The Cleric turned, glancing her sister up and down. "Do you, now?" She couldn't be sure. She truly couldn't be sure her sister understood anything about her. Had she ever?

Twyla's lips drew into a thin frown. Was she really going to make her say it out loud? That the differences between them as identical wolves were significant enough that there was a preferred twin? That one might be considered objectively better? Enough to stop a binding ceremony, no less? But before she had to dive into that mess of a rhetorical question, Solune asked one she felt she could actually answer:

"What are you doing here, Twyla?"

Exhaling slowly, the prepared speech flew through her mind, word for word. But instead of starting with the practiced recitation of what she was up to, her heart took over, driving new and more deeply felt words to her mouth. The need to share her pain was too great to ignore, as obvious as it should have been to her sister. Twyla's eyes welled with tears. "You didn't come home…"

Solune's eyes narrowed before she whipped her head back around, away from her twin, avoiding eye contact once more. She lingered a moment on Twyla's sentiment before she cleared her throat tiredly and replied, "I had no reason to."

That one stung the Harvester. But she knew why.

"I tracked you," Twyla admitted. "For months." She waited for any commentary from her twin. But when met with silence, she forged on. "And when I finally found you… I was set on bringing you home. We missed you, Lulu… But you had this whole other life, here, in Mhor. I can see why you stayed." She hoped adding a stretch of kindness more than Solune's sour mood deserved might tend to her sister's emotional wounds. But it seemed to only make it worse.

"I've served this pack long before we were established here in these lands. This is my home now. And you have paid off your debts." Go home. Solune spoke with such bitterness, Twyla wanted to reach out, to clear the dark cloud that hung over her and choked her with so much hatred. But she knew better. They weren't there yet.

"Solune, I can't be without you…" the Harvester explained softly, rising her feet to take a few tentative steps toward her sister.

"You should have thought of that sooner…" Solune's hackles were starting to lift again.

"Your feelings were hurt," and not just because of Zuke, Twyla tried to explain for her, justify her anger, inching closer. "You left in such a hurry, you didn't even-"

"I didn't even what?" Solune finally rounded on her, stopping the Harvester in her tracks. "YOU left, Twyla. YOU were the one long gone. Impeccable timing, too. It's not enough to have my groom run off the day we were to be bound, but it had to be with YOU."

Twyla braced herself for another onslaught of her sister's wrath. "Solune, I know wh…" she stopped short when she looked up. Solune swayed slightly on her feet. Her neck was held down, the wind blew her fur gently. She was not ready to strike out as Twyla expected. Instead of a powerful, vengeful creature, before her stood the crumpled, defeated figure of a wolf at the end of her rope. Tears streamed down Solune's cheeks.

"You were supposed to be with me, Twyla… Always. You were supposed to be on my side, always. I didn't…" Solune looked around, hoping to grasp the tidal wave of emotions that flooded her as she went back to that morning. "I was embarrassed about Zuke," she admitted. More tears stood on her eyes, but they weren't for her lost lover. "He did hurt me. I can't tell you how stupid I felt, knowing he preferred another wolf who looks exactly like me…" She shook her head from side to side. "But that paled… in comparison to you choosing him over me."

Twyla remained very still. She stayed quiet. She knew this was Solune's understanding of what had transpired. How could she begin to unravel the only truth her sister had known for almost two years? But Solune's pain was becoming unbearable to her. Twyla knew, she had to do something, she had to make it stop– "I didn't go with him."

Solune stared at Twyla. What did she mean?

As if reading her twin's mind, Twyla continued, "I didn't leave with him. I… He confessed his feelings for me. And–I know, I knew I should have said something, because I suspected…" she shook her head, unable to get the words out as the timeline folded together. "You remember? He kept… mixing us up. But I think he was only pretending to, so he could… talk to me sometimes. I didn't say anything, I didn't want to make you upset…"

Solune's gaze had fallen down to the snow at Twyla's feet, her jaw clenched shut as she listened, and her twin went on: "I know I should have. Because it all culminated that night–I was returning from a hunt and he stopped me in the mountain pass from the hunting fields. He tried to get me to go away with him. Wouldn't let me through. He kept going on about this fantasy–" Twyla cut short. Solune didn't need to hear the details. "He just… Wouldn't let me through. I had to go the long way down. Doubled back, then up and over the mountain. Solune, you know I would never–" but stopped again. Because that was just the problem, wasn't it? Solune didn't know. Her trust in her sister was somehow so shaken that she couldn't have blind faith that her twin would never intentionally let her down by any means, and never so cataclysmically. And pinning that broken faith on Solune alone was unfair. It once again put her sister in the role of the fool. Everything pointed to the truth that Solune knew, but if she had just stayed home one more day–

The snow crunched when Solune's hocks slowly sank into the mantle as she sat down. She was still staring into the ground, avoiding Twyla's gaze entirely.

"I would never betray you like that…" the Harvester tried again, reworking the blame. "I'm sorry he got between us… I'm sorry I didn't–"

"What took you so long?" The pain in Solune's voice was palpable, stinging Twyla's heart ten times over. "I–I didn't even go far at first–" quickly she rose to her feet and began to pace, eyes frantic. "And then you–You've been here the entire time and you SAID NOTHING?" Her pacing escalated, paws coming down hard in the snow in front of Twyla. But the Harvester didn't budge, only closed her eyes and flattened her ears, ready for whatever blows Solune had for her.

"M-Mom and Dad freaked out… They wouldn't let me leave the den." Poor excuses, but excuses nonetheless. She had been in a world of trouble with both families when the truth came to light. Zuke's integrity and accompanying career in the pack was more or less over. But so much fumbling, stumbling and panic meant no one properly went after Solune. "By the time I found you–I–" A heavy paw clapped against her face as Solune struck her, finally. Twyla did not retaliate, only accepted the blow that knocked her head to the side. "I knew it wouldn't make a difference." Solune's paw raised once more to deal another blow, but she hesitated. "I knew that the truth would be worse than what you went through, what you continued to know to be true."

When Solune's paw didn't come down on her for a second time, Twyla opened her eyes. Solune quaked, tears flowing, paw still raised to strike, but all efforts were sunk into processing what her sister was telling her.

"So I didn't tell you. Because it would be easier for you to hate me." || "-Easier for me to hate you."

The end of the sentence came in unison, as so many had years before in their puphood. Solune understood. Twyla allowed Solune to hate her nearly to death so she wouldn't hate herself even more.

When it all came down to it, Twyla hadn't betrayed her–not really. A series of grave missteps and errors on the parts of others. Twyla wasn't completely innocent. But Twyla was still here for her, still had her back, physically and emotionally, even if it meant suffering. At least they were suffering… together.

Twyla winced when she felt a rush of movement pass by her face. But no harm came to her. Eyes fluttering open, she saw instead Solune's head bowed into her chest, ears flat against her neck as she began to sob openly.

She couldn't help it. Every time Solune cried, the waterworks just happened, entirely out of her control. Twyla's tears flowed with Solune's as they sat together, finally on the same plane of understanding, for the first time in over a year. The mind-numbing incongruence between them that left both sisters so out of sorts, so broken, slowly started to fade.

[🎵 ]
.
[DoTW] - Irreparably Broken
.
.
[DoTW] - The Other One
.
.
.

And here we are my guys. 😌
This has been in progress for quite a while, so canonically takes place a little over a month ago, a few weeks after Solune, Twyla and Serren faced a horde of Hive wolves together.
(If you missed that little adventure, you can read Part I here and Part II here!)

Featuring:

Epilogue:

To the other Mhorians, it was as if overnight, Solune's aggression toward her sister dissipated. Twyla no longer cowered near her or avoided contact with her directly. They still did not speak to one another much -- not openly, at least. But when one might catch the other on her own, instead of following submissively, Twyla walked at Solune's side, only one pawstep behind. Solune did pull rank on her, after all. For Solune's part, something within her seemed to change, ever so slightly. Though an air of darkness still hung about her like a black cloud, she funneled that darkness more into... well, the Mhorians supposed it was humor though no one but Matthias caught on to her jokes, and it took anyone else nearly a quarter of a moon to pick up on them. She was not as sullen, not quite as absent as she had been since they'd known her. She actually began to express joy in little things -- a beautiful bouquet or particularly handsome sprig of herbs. She was even caught admiring birdsong once.

But no greater change was noticed more than a shift in Twyla's tasks. As a newly sworn Harvester, even months after the incident with Babylon, she had been explicitly banned from collecting herbs and flora without supervision, and strictly never allowed to handle Feverfew. This too, changed, undoubtedly under the dubious and watchful eye of Deborah. But Twyla took care in delivering the flowers and stalks directly to the Cleric den, more and more frequently directly to Solune herself, without objection.

Description

In her dreams, the pace of the world was agonizingly slow. She was out there, well beyond Wavechaser shore, swimming under the light of a sliver of the moon. And she was alone. Wet all the way through, her long coat weighing her down, the spray of the salt water battering her face as the wind whipped over her mercilessly. No Twyla in sight. And no Serren, either. No one from Mhor. Not even one of those monstrous killing wolves that had followed them over the cliff’s edge. Out here, up here, in her mind, Solune was utterly alone.

The constant rocking, the push and pull of the memory of waves made her feel sick. Vertigo, from a long night of running, of falling, of swimming—and drowning—and ending up… well, she couldn’t remember the events following her decision to drown the wolf that threatened to drown her sister. In all honesty, she couldn’t believe she had made it out alive, and apparently of her own volition. According to the others, she had made it as far as dry land before collapsing completely. Allegedly, Twyla and Serren hid with her among seals until they were found the next day. Morning or afternoon? By whom? The details eluded her, she was still half asleep and the world was still spinning when she was conscious enough to hear the tale.

That first moment of wakefulness was days ago. Days after they had plunged into the ocean to escape certain death. She had slept for entire day cycles—how many exactly, she wasn’t sure. She spent another two full days in Deborah’s and Cahal’s care as they tried to rid her of the cough that continued to set fire to her lungs. She was still technically healing from the ordeal, but she needed to get out of the den, to stretch her legs and find someplace that wasn’t teeming with Mhorians asking how she was doing. But the farthest she could go was the edge of the Hollow.

She sat with her back to her slumbering packmates up on the hill, under the protection of the rocky overhang. Too paranoid not to watch the woods, she kept her eyes on the still, evening snow, laid fresh that afternoon, still without trails or tracks.

But she could hear someone approach from behind. Figuring it was Cahal's heavy footsteps, her ears dropped a little. She could have used a few more moments alone in the dark before being brought back to the den. But when she turned around, she was met with a face that looked just like hers. Only, it had a significant scratch on it.

Twyla's wound would heal over quickly, but remain scarred for years. The Mhorians would actually be able to tell them apart now–at least from the front.

Solune's hackles were up, but only in surprise. She lowered them and turned back away to continue her cool stare out into the wilds of the Brokenveil.

"Solune."

They hadn't spoken together, not directly. Not since that night. Twyla healed much faster and aided Solune, only checking to see if or when she was conscious or lucid. When she started to come out of her long sleeping spells, Twyla made herself scarce again. Solune didn't remember seeing her around the Clerics' den, not at all.

"Solune, can we talk?"

The Cleric heaved a sigh. Ever since she left their homepack, she had decided that she was born the only girl, that she didn't even have a twin. It was the easiest way to block out the hurt and betrayal Twyla had caused. Just pretend she didn't even exist.

And then when she came to Mhor, revealing herself… really, it started with running into Solazar, having to admit what had happened. She couldn't pretend anymore. So she instead settled for hatred. Hot, seething hatred that kept Twyla out of her way, out of her line of sight. It worked like a charm for months, but as the Hive wolves, as they were apparently called, began to encroach further and further into Mhorian territory, serving the pack in a vacuum became more and more difficult. They needed to collect herbs - together. They needed to eat - together. They needed to survive – together. All of Solune's pretending, and all of her hatred, was slowly starting to fray. To unwind. Ever since her confrontation with Alderwen. This was bound to happen.

"Speak," the Cleric replied hoarsely as she closed her eyes. She was too tired to try and deflect or argue. …And maybe a part of her actually finally wanted to hear what her sister had to say.

Twyla stood behind her twin for a moment before settling down into the snow, sitting with her shoulders hunched. It wasn't that her sister's response had taken her by surprise, but there was just so much of the conversation that she had wanted to say for so long. It weighed on her heavily, every day. The objective truth. The truth that was different from Solune's truth.

"You know I don't love Zuke," Twyla started. Simple. And also not.

It made sense, well enough. Twyla was alone, after all. But it didn't provide any sense of relief, just more questions. More questions Solune wasn't sure she wanted answered. The Cleric cleared her throat before responding, "I might suspect he would be here, if you did."

"I never-"

"But he loved you."

Twyla couldn't exactly speak for Zuke's stupidity, try as she might. "He was confused. He's an idiot," she replied, hopeful her sister might see him for the throwaway error that he was. Solune gave pause, rather than retorting. A sigh of relief escaped Twyla. At least that much they could both agree on. But it was the first excuse that made her senses tingle with anticipation as to what Solune was really thinking. Zuke wasn't supposed to be confused. He was supposed to be wed to Solune, plain and simple. "I understand why you were upset…"

The Cleric turned, glancing her sister up and down. "Do you, now?" She couldn't be sure. She truly couldn't be sure her sister understood anything about her. Had she ever?

Twyla's lips drew into a thin frown. Was she really going to make her say it out loud? That the differences between them as identical wolves were significant enough that there was a preferred twin? That one might be considered objectively better? Enough to stop a binding ceremony, no less? But before she had to dive into that mess of a rhetorical question, Solune asked one she felt she could actually answer:

"What are you doing here, Twyla?"

Exhaling slowly, the prepared speech flew through her mind, word for word. But instead of starting with the practiced recitation of what she was up to, her heart took over, driving new and more deeply felt words to her mouth. The need to share her pain was too great to ignore, as obvious as it should have been to her sister. Twyla's eyes welled with tears. "You didn't come home…"

Solune's eyes narrowed before she whipped her head back around, away from her twin, avoiding eye contact once more. She lingered a moment on Twyla's sentiment before she cleared her throat tiredly and replied, "I had no reason to."

That one stung the Harvester. But she knew why.

"I tracked you," Twyla admitted. "For months." She waited for any commentary from her twin. But when met with silence, she forged on. "And when I finally found you… I was set on bringing you home. We missed you, Lulu… But you had this whole other life, here, in Mhor. I can see why you stayed." She hoped adding a stretch of kindness more than Solune's sour mood deserved might tend to her sister's emotional wounds. But it seemed to only make it worse.

"I've served this pack long before we were established here in these lands. This is my home now. And you have paid off your debts." Go home. Solune spoke with such bitterness, Twyla wanted to reach out, to clear the dark cloud that hung over her and choked her with so much hatred. But she knew better. They weren't there yet.

"Solune, I can't be without you…" the Harvester explained softly, rising her feet to take a few tentative steps toward her sister.

"You should have thought of that sooner…" Solune's hackles were starting to lift again.

"Your feelings were hurt," and not just because of Zuke, Twyla tried to explain for her, justify her anger, inching closer. "You left in such a hurry, you didn't even-"

"I didn't even what?" Solune finally rounded on her, stopping the Harvester in her tracks. "YOU left, Twyla. YOU were the one long gone. Impeccable timing, too. It's not enough to have my groom run off the day we were to be bound, but it had to be with YOU."

Twyla braced herself for another onslaught of her sister's wrath. "Solune, I know wh…" she stopped short when she looked up. Solune swayed slightly on her feet. Her neck was held down, the wind blew her fur gently. She was not ready to strike out as Twyla expected. Instead of a powerful, vengeful creature, before her stood the crumpled, defeated figure of a wolf at the end of her rope. Tears streamed down Solune's cheeks.

"You were supposed to be with me, Twyla… Always. You were supposed to be on my side, always. I didn't…" Solune looked around, hoping to grasp the tidal wave of emotions that flooded her as she went back to that morning. "I was embarrassed about Zuke," she admitted. More tears stood on her eyes, but they weren't for her lost lover. "He did hurt me. I can't tell you how stupid I felt, knowing he preferred another wolf who looks exactly like me…" She shook her head from side to side. "But that paled… in comparison to you choosing him over me."

Twyla remained very still. She stayed quiet. She knew this was Solune's understanding of what had transpired. How could she begin to unravel the only truth her sister had known for almost two years? But Solune's pain was becoming unbearable to her. Twyla knew, she had to do something, she had to make it stop– "I didn't go with him."

Solune stared at Twyla. What did she mean?

As if reading her twin's mind, Twyla continued, "I didn't leave with him. I… He confessed his feelings for me. And–I know, I knew I should have said something, because I suspected…" she shook her head, unable to get the words out as the timeline folded together. "You remember? He kept… mixing us up. But I think he was only pretending to, so he could… talk to me sometimes. I didn't say anything, I didn't want to make you upset…"

Solune's gaze had fallen down to the snow at Twyla's feet, her jaw clenched shut as she listened, and her twin went on: "I know I should have. Because it all culminated that night–I was returning from a hunt and he stopped me in the mountain pass from the hunting fields. He tried to get me to go away with him. Wouldn't let me through. He kept going on about this fantasy–" Twyla cut short. Solune didn't need to hear the details. "He just… Wouldn't let me through. I had to go the long way down. Doubled back, then up and over the mountain. Solune, you know I would never–" but stopped again. Because that was just the problem, wasn't it? Solune didn't know. Her trust in her sister was somehow so shaken that she couldn't have blind faith that her twin would never intentionally let her down by any means, and never so cataclysmically. And pinning that broken faith on Solune alone was unfair. It once again put her sister in the role of the fool. Everything pointed to the truth that Solune knew, but if she had just stayed home one more day–

The snow crunched when Solune's hocks slowly sank into the mantle as she sat down. She was still staring into the ground, avoiding Twyla's gaze entirely.

"I would never betray you like that…" the Harvester tried again, reworking the blame. "I'm sorry he got between us… I'm sorry I didn't–"

"What took you so long?" The pain in Solune's voice was palpable, stinging Twyla's heart ten times over. "I–I didn't even go far at first–" quickly she rose to her feet and began to pace, eyes frantic. "And then you–You've been here the entire time and you SAID NOTHING?" Her pacing escalated, paws coming down hard in the snow in front of Twyla. But the Harvester didn't budge, only closed her eyes and flattened her ears, ready for whatever blows Solune had for her.

"M-Mom and Dad freaked out… They wouldn't let me leave the den." Poor excuses, but excuses nonetheless. She had been in a world of trouble with both families when the truth came to light. Zuke's integrity and accompanying career in the pack was more or less over. But so much fumbling, stumbling and panic meant no one properly went after Solune. "By the time I found you–I–" A heavy paw clapped against her face as Solune struck her, finally. Twyla did not retaliate, only accepted the blow that knocked her head to the side. "I knew it wouldn't make a difference." Solune's paw raised once more to deal another blow, but she hesitated. "I knew that the truth would be worse than what you went through, what you continued to know to be true."

When Solune's paw didn't come down on her for a second time, Twyla opened her eyes. Solune quaked, tears flowing, paw still raised to strike, but all efforts were sunk into processing what her sister was telling her.

"So I didn't tell you. Because it would be easier for you to hate me." || "-Easier for me to hate you."

The end of the sentence came in unison, as so many had years before in their puphood. Solune understood. Twyla allowed Solune to hate her nearly to death so she wouldn't hate herself even more.

When it all came down to it, Twyla hadn't betrayed her–not really. A series of grave missteps and errors on the parts of others. Twyla wasn't completely innocent. But Twyla was still here for her, still had her back, physically and emotionally, even if it meant suffering. At least they were suffering… together.

Twyla winced when she felt a rush of movement pass by her face. But no harm came to her. Eyes fluttering open, she saw instead Solune's head bowed into her chest, ears flat against her neck as she began to sob openly.

She couldn't help it. Every time Solune cried, the waterworks just happened, entirely out of her control. Twyla's tears flowed with Solune's as they sat together, finally on the same plane of understanding, for the first time in over a year. The mind-numbing incongruence between them that left both sisters so out of sorts, so broken, slowly started to fade.

[🎵 ]
.
[DoTW] - Irreparably Broken
.
.
[DoTW] - The Other One
.
.
.

And here we are my guys. 😌
This has been in progress for quite a while, so canonically takes place a little over a month ago, a few weeks after Solune, Twyla and Serren faced a horde of Hive wolves together.
(If you missed that little adventure, you can read Part I here and Part II here!)

Featuring:

Epilogue:

To the other Mhorians, it was as if overnight, Solune's aggression toward her sister dissipated. Twyla no longer cowered near her or avoided contact with her directly. They still did not speak to one another much -- not openly, at least. But when one might catch the other on her own, instead of following submissively, Twyla walked at Solune's side, only one pawstep behind. Solune did pull rank on her, after all. For Solune's part, something within her seemed to change, ever so slightly. Though an air of darkness still hung about her like a black cloud, she funneled that darkness more into... well, the Mhorians supposed it was humor though no one but Matthias caught on to her jokes, and it took anyone else nearly a quarter of a moon to pick up on them. She was not as sullen, not quite as absent as she had been since they'd known her. She actually began to express joy in little things -- a beautiful bouquet or particularly handsome sprig of herbs. She was even caught admiring birdsong once.

But no greater change was noticed more than a shift in Twyla's tasks. As a newly sworn Harvester, even months after the incident with Babylon, she had been explicitly banned from collecting herbs and flora without supervision, and strictly never allowed to handle Feverfew. This too, changed, undoubtedly under the dubious and watchful eye of Deborah. But Twyla took care in delivering the flowers and stalks directly to the Cleric den, more and more frequently directly to Solune herself, without objection.