It occurred to me once again, as we spoke in the quiet darkness of the trees: much existed about Evangeline I did not know. She had truly grown, in our time apart, and I… I blinked in response to her inquiry, ears twitching. “Sometimes one has no choice but to laugh,” I murmured. My sharp humor had dulled with months of serving and relative comfort, but it remained tied to whatever darkness I once cultivated in my own heart. Unintentionally – but no excuse. I had always considered myself a sinner, and never condescended to apologize for it.

      I watched her more carefully, still somewhat amused by her take on the situation. “No.” Quietly, still. “But I may have found anywhere else… you were established in the Edge. You belong there, with others who wear their hearts openly.” Mine was far too rotten for that, botched and scarred… I glanced away, thinking. Did I still expect she was uninjured, as well? Innocent, naïve? She had clearly suffered, if not in the same way I had, then perhaps… more bitterly. No wonder, of course. She considered a being like myself every bit as deserving as she, despite the obvious differences in our perspectives. Her last statement surprised me, though, and with a jerk of my head I peered at her, blinking, a snort rattling in my nostrils. “I’m afraid you are somewhat mistaken; I may have taken a position as a nurse, but I hardly feel useful. You improve any situation by virtue of your presence; that is useful. Being honest and kind – that is useful. I… complain of things.” Wry, I cocked my head at her. “Don’t underestimate yourself, my dear. If you’ve any faults, it is a tendency toward forgetting your own worth.” I hoped, in some way, to make up for pulling away from her so suddenly. It had only been surprise… And I meant the statement as well, so convinced it was mere objective truth I needed feel no guilt for it, as I might in aimlessly giving compliment.

      A small surge of… something (sentiment?) passed through me when she accepted my touch. Muzzle pressed against the smooth warmth of her face, I inhaled, briefly, feeling comfort again – as if things were right, at last. I wished they could be so, always. Wished I did not make such mistakes. “Running away is… it’s what I do, I guess.” I moved as if to shove her, gently, near the top of her neck. “I seem to have grown adept at finding you,” I mused, “so I suppose it isn’t such a problem as it might be.” Better that she ran and remained safe, in all honesty. I had caught up to her twice, though I had both times expected to find myself bereft of my dear friend. More serious, I stepped back to look her in the eye. “So long as I may be certain you do, indeed, enjoy my company…” It had been my only reservation, before – that she preferred to be without me. Though it seemed that some madness grew affection in her; I was not so virtuous to shrug it off.

      “Thank you,” was all she gave in response to my compliment, and I blinked at her, wondering if it sprang from humility or discomfort. “Of course.” How strange a pair we must have made – one half feral and the other far too kind. I wished to say more but found nothing suitable; how does one convince the sun of its own warmth? Instead I shifted my attention toward Tallis, bracing slightly as he fell from the trees above and glided toward a perch on my back – as he had once, ages ago. The sensation accompanied by that event raised joyful warmth in me. Perhaps I could not have the Woodlands again, perhaps I could not be important again – but perhaps I was important to Evangeline. To her dragon. Perhaps that… was enough.

      I supposed it could never ease the massive aching in my mind, but it was a start.

      “I accept your apology,” I told the dragon solemnly. “And I would be glad to call you friend again, if you don’t mind. I think we are of the same mind, most of the time – Evangeline is of utmost importance to us both, hm?” I cast a wry look at her, wondering perhaps when I had become so comfortable with expressing affection – but it felt necessary, with one so obviously ready to assume the worst of herself. If she must feel unworthy of affection, then perhaps I should give it anyway, until she no longer felt so.