Ktulu has returned. She is calling for Archibald. Cub is with her. Of all the hard things Aodaun had ever had to say to her, this was surely the hardest. She could feel the waves of regret, the tentativeness with which he let their consciousnesses meld to relay the words to her. He had ambled upon them in his constant circling of Murtagh's general location, and as he spoke stood on the fringes of the beautiful reunion. The snow could not hide the shock of his pale fur any longer with the turning of the seasons, but he had no real reason to hide himself from their gazes. They were family after all. 

Lakota didn't respond for many long minutes, watching through flickering images, sharing her bonded's eyes. Archibald's intimate, relieved touch. Murtagh's jumping and bouncing. Sorellina's playful fumbling. Ktulu's tired breaths and battered hide. I can do nothing for them, she responded in monotone, hooves still rooted to the earth. Unmoving. Unwilling. Aodaun's voice was a quiet sigh in her head. You still love her. Lakota snorted a bitter laugh. 

So does he.

There was no heartbreak because she had no pieces left to tarnish. There was no jealousy because her pitiful love enveloped all of them entirely. There was no contest to be won, no joy or anger to be felt on either side of the spectrum. A simple, almost peaceful void that she never bothered to crawl out of. She held his orders above - Aodaun abruptly broke apart her thoughts with a sharp jab of emotion. If he let her finish she would never recover. If she could at all with the poison in her body and her veins. Eating her, killing her in the most profoundly poetic way. 

Come. Please.

But Lakota could do nothing for her beloved. She had no magic to heal, no poison to numb. What love she could offer was already being offered by Murtagh and Archibald. 

Please, Lakota.

She turned. 

- - -

The gathering looked the same as it had been through her bear's eyes. A small bundle of herbs lay tied in her mane - her flimsy excuse for her lateness and slow gait. How do I tell her? Aodaun had no answer for her but a deep, abiding sadness. 

"Welcome home," she murmured softly as she approached, turning to rip the herbs free from her mane, chewing them to a pulp and gently smearing her muzzle across her mate's skin. There was nothing to be said that had not already been. No questions to pose that had not already been asked. Nothing she could give or do. 

Tomorrow, Aodaun.

The bear's breaking heart was the only answer she received. 

Lakota the Poisoner