It had been many moons since she had last seen Crucified. Excuse me. Hestier. She wanted to scream. To cry. To rage. She wished the world could feel her hatred, her passion. She wished they knew her love for the stupid male was enough to drown it. She wished that they would all see that she was her. Enola. The Solitary one. The poisonus one. Her soul felt as if it bled, and she knew that if she screamed now that her screams would go unheard. She knew that. But she didn't care. She sat at the canyons very edge, and sat down her amber gaze drinking in the valley greedily, as if it was a drink that she could never get enough of. Then, without warning, her small dial raised and she howled. It was very near a scream, a cry. It sounded as if she were being tortured, and indeed she felt as if she were. God, she felt so lost, so confused. So left in the dark. She had tried being what Hestier wanted. Cool, dark, aloof. But deep don, she was not a Natalya. She was Enola. The Solitary Poison. She lowered her head as her screaming cry finished, and stared once more over the valley. The night was peaceful with only the sounds of night surrounding her. The moon was full and it cast its silvery rays across her own silver hide as she watched nothing. No one. But she was the Valleys Guardian. That was how she felt. The valleys Guardian. Its protecter. Its Angel of Vengeance. And sitting there, solitary and stock still, she looked like a fallen angel. Lost, and forever more she would be lost. Without him, she was nothing. And she would forever be without him. She could love no one but him. How could she? He was everything. No. He had been everything. He had been kind, funny, gentle. God, had he been gentle. She thought of Crucifieds long dead mate, and then thought of Kage. The rogue. Something had always bothered her about the black female. She had been controlling, power hungry, and vicious, but she had been kind in her own weird way. Except to the alphess. The alphess, White Tip? Had that been her name? Anyways. The alphess had drawn out the darker side of Kage, and unleashed it upon the world. It had been the others down fall. Enola thought silently to herself of all the deaths that Kage had wrought. She was manipulative, greedy, cunnng, and all in all, she was a down right bitch. Enola hated her. Hated her as much as she loved Crucified. God. She had to stop thinking about him. He was going to be the death of her. She knew it. She accepted it.

A howl; a howl of pain, no, a howl of agony … and deprivation filled the sky across the valley and resting faintly into a pair black ears. The zeniths quivered microscopically for a moment as a set of crimson eyes looked up from a long awaited nap. Tyrant had been resting in his land, but the noise of Enola’s painful calls shook him from the darkness of his slumber, causing him to rise to his feet and howl painfully back. He missed his brother badly, just as all those who knew him, but Tyrant was sure Enola was getting the shit-end of the stick. ”Enola…” Looking back once over his pack; he turned and trotted down from his post to meet the female. Hoping that the she would still be there by the time he arrived.

Thick black legs surged as he took the shortest route up the canyon. Using his nose, flexing his hearing, straining hiw sigh; he searched for the lone female. After moments of climbing, he spotted a moon washed wolf. ”Enola!” He called before hauling himself up to her level. Standing a good few feet away from her, he watched. Hesitantly, he stepped forward, his quietness screaming out his sorrow for her. His large head lowered, the scar on his maw and under his eye glowing. ”It has been a while since we’ve last spoken, I dare not ask how you are doing, for it clearly sounds not too good.” His eyes shifted, trying not to make things worse than they were. He wasn’t a leader, just a protector. He could never find quite the right words to say. So he stood quietly, remembering how she ordered him as if he were a simple servant, the last time they spoke… It was the past, but would such things arise in the present?

A cold wind blew across the canyon, present with the chill of winter-on-its-way. The black beast looked at the moon for a moment before letting his back legs crumple beneath him. He drew in a breath, holding it for a moment as he scanned the valley…Why was such a cold night so beautiful, especially when the cold was the emotion of the atmosphere, and not the temperature of the night?

She heard a voice, and it took her back..... But it wasn't his voice. It was his brothers. Tears filled those pretty amber eyes, and she stared hard down at the valley to clear them before she spoke. Hes not coming back. Is he Tyrant? She whispered softly to him. There was agony there, the same agony that filled her night and day. She shouldn't have ordered Tyrant as she had, but..... God, she just wanted him back. She turned those hurt filled eyes to his, and she whispered I tried..... I tried so hard to get him back. I.... I couldn't take it anymore. Hes not Crucified. Hes a monster, but..... I want him back. Tears streamed down her cheeks and she struggled hard to hide them but the sobs were strangling her, and she didn't think she could hold onto them. She hadn't cried. Not in all this time, but seeing Tyrant made her want to weep. He had turned out well, had he not? Well..... For the most part. He wasn't good, he wasn't evil. He was Tyrant. Always, Tyrant.

Crimson orbs softened ever more as her pain continued and appeared more clearly. He left a respectful silence as she spoke, before; during; and after, so that she could add and take back words. He felt her emotions share onto him. Then responded ”I don’t know…” His words were hollow, he knew there had to be a way to get his brother back, to take away and kill off this ‘Hestier’, but how? He shook his head in thought, a flash of his mother’s death running through his mind. He’d have to be traumatized; but how much trauma would he have to go through to snap back? Mother was dead, and Crucified never liked Vicious. Tyrant couldn’t think of anything else but his children and Enola in some sort of danger… or worse. I wont let anything happen to them. He thought to himself strictly, his face contorting as he promised it to himself.

Her next line made the wolf look up to her, watching her lips as she spoke. He nodded ”You did all you could, and you have done no wrong to leave him. He is not Crucified; he is a monster; a monster named Hestier. You want Crucified back. We will get him back.” He assured her, his gaze growing strong as he made yet another promise. This time the promise was heard by ears, and thus strengthened his will for it to be done. And then, he caught the sight of her tears, and her struggle to keep them down. He gave a soft smile, nudging her gently ”Crying heals the soul, do not choke back what needed.” Even as he said it, he would not cry, even if he felt he needed it as well. Everyone cried; and he would, but in solitude he would. For now he would be an emotional crutch until they got Crucified back. He looked off in the distance, toward the setting moon. ”We will get him back…”

She turned her amber eyes to him staring for a moment before suddenly she buried her face against his thick ruff and sobbed. She was the strong one, the one who never cried, especially in front of others, but now...... She couldn't hold it back any longer. As she sobbed again, she whispered into his thick mane I love him, Tyrant. There. She'd said it. She had only admitted her love once, but never again. He didn't love her. Not anymore. Maybe the old Crucified would have, but Hestier could not. She was nothing. She was not strikingly beautiful. She was not amazingly smart. She was not an excellent hunter or a great wolven to talk to. She was nothing.

But what was worse, she was even more of a nothing without him.

A kind smile presented itself upon his scarred muzzle. Those deep red orbs growing soft as she buried her face into his mane. For a moment he paused, and then let his large head rest on the side of her neck in a hug-type way. “I know you do, Enola… I know you do.” He tried to comfort her, and yet show his sorrow as well.

His thorax swelled for a moment as a deep sigh was heaved, trying to prevent himself from joining her in a ‘tear-fest’ as much as his soul needed to be lifted, he would wait for solitude. In the darkness of his mind, the promise rung to him, we will get him back he repeated to himself before closing his eyes and hugging Enola like wolves do. His world spun around him for a moment, his brother had been gone for so long…. There were doubts to get him back.

Slowly, letting time pass, waiting for Enola to calm herself. Tyrant was patient, he would not hurry her through what he believed was healing, but when there was a break in the sobs he spoke to her. “I know I have little to offer, but” He paused for a moment as if gathering thoughts. “I have created a pack, one that is against the war and refuses to fight.” Well, at least, he tried to keep them from fighting. “If you would like to seek shelter, you are welcome in my land as you freely as you wish. There my pack mates and us can try and devise a way to bring Crucified to his senses.” There was again silence, but this time it withheld. Leaving a point in the conversation for Enola to speak if she wished, but he would not force into attempting something she was not ready for.