Far from the World’s Edge, I at last found trees reminiscent of home – as near to home as any place had ever been. Shadows dwelled thick and hungry under old trunks. Branches filtered out the light, leaving even midday in eternal dusk. Even the bark, here and there, bore strange, violent markings – not the artwork of the Mystic Woodlands but somehow familiar. I had never considered myself a man beholden to nostalgia but it weighed heavily on me as I walked, ever aware, faintly, of the sensation of running – from the Edge, perhaps. From my own mistakes.

      I had ample experience in running from those.

      Rarely did I admit, in entirety, to having made mistakes, of course. Only a few times… each too painful to recount, that incident in the rain nearly the worst of all, having driven me at last from the border of a first home, a childhood home, now wrecked and forgotten… a home only to mud, blood, and bones. It had driven me to Isilme, and in Isilme I had found the peace of hard work – good work. The peace of companionship…

      I thought of Roanne as I walked. Some distant part of me expected him, another shadow, to find me in the forest and wash the bark with my blood – but he never came. Memories proved specter enough, and I moved on thoughtlessly, in search of nothing but perhaps more solitude, when my own mind refused me rest. What had driven me to Helovia? I called it guilt, before; perhaps loneliness made a better fit. Though others had approached me in my exile I had turned them away, pining instead for companions lost – perhaps for a companion lost… I chafed against the yearning in my breast. Why? Never before had I considered myself beholden to another, in need of them… Perhaps I had not been frank with myself. Perhaps I had not been frank with her.

      Long days had passed since last I allowed my thoughts to dwell on Evangeline. Dwelling did no good in the space of things – I ought to get along without her, if she desired nothing of my company. Even if I had been mistaken… better perhaps to assume she felt free of me. Happier without my company… I snorted at the thought. Happy. Gods damn the both of us.

      I still recalled the smell of smoke as I walked. I had given valiant effort to forgetting it – had succeeded nearly, sometimes. I did not expect to give myself to illness quite so easily, again… but something wriggled in the back of my mind. Perhaps I had grown tired of sowing my own despair. Perhaps… the burden of guilt weighed heaviest when it might be remedied. I needed only to swallow my pride. What purpose did that serve me, anyway?

      Rather than act, I wandered between the trees. Such escape provided opportunity for thought, if nothing more. Few others entered my consciousness as I moved – the small crack of a twig here, the old scent of unicorn there. My cloven hooves pressed mostly over untried ground. Fear kept others out, perhaps… the forest possessed an old quality lacking in kindness. I understand that, I supposed. I hardly wanted company.

      Of course, my own thoughts went disregarded by the universe, as ever. I might have accounted the noise of a voice as mere coincidence, did the circumstances not fall in such a way too often – did the voice not pierce me with recollection, with a sudden, coppery tang of guilt. “Damn it,” I muttered. My head swung round in search of an exit; inside my swiveling ears, my heart beat hard. I did not wish to see her, really – did not wish it even if it was hallucination, and she still dwelled safe within the Edge. But I wasted too much time in standing like a blinkered idiot, and caught contemplating flight, I was robbed the opportunity to partake in it.

      Stupid.

      Instead I stared at the orange hide visible between the trees, the glint of copper where the dragon sat – I tensed in anticipation, wanting no more fire, ever, anywhere. “Evangeline.” Her name broke quietly from my lips; unable quite to look her in the eye, I looked away, supposing if the dragon did decide to intervene, I deserved its anger.

      Yes, deserved.

      Unable to speak the sentiment, exactly, I blinked and chanced a glance ahead, hoping to find – something – in her face. Forgiveness? For a man deserving none? A shallow sigh dragged from my chest. I had run long enough – from the fire, from her. I might have been a coward but I might be an honest one, if only for – a friend. I cleared my throat.

      “I did not expect to find you here… If – if you prefer to be alone…”