Chapter 617 Healing - Part 1

ELRETH

Behryn left a short time later, promising to return after lunch with Hollhye. Elreth was so exhausted, she didn't even fight the urge to go back to bed. But she found as she slumped onto the sleeping platform that her heart, though still aching with open wounds, didn't hurt quite as much as it had before.

A burden shared was a burden halved, her mother had always said.

Elreth took a breath and decided she would try to be more intentional. Talk to Gar more often. Talk to Behryn and Hollhye. And—

Footsteps sounded in the Cave and Elreth's heart jumped, adrenalin pumping in her veins.

Then she recognized them.

Jayah was there.

Shit.

Elreth had forgotten. Jayah had been pushing to speak with her and she'd put her off almost every day. She'd given in at breakfast and told her to come in an hour—shit.

The female entered a moment later, her lined face serious, but seeking, her hair beginning to streak with white in a way that reminded Elreth of Mam'Amora. It was both comforting and terrifying.

Elreth couldn't fathom losing anyone else.

Their eyes met as Jayah crossed the room. Elreth hadn't moved from her place in the furs, and Jayah didn't seem surprised.

But Elreth didn't want to talk to her.

"I'm not feeling well," she croaked as Jayah settled on the furs. "Maybe we can do this tomor—"

"No, El," Jayah said in her calm voice that was deep for a female. Then Jayah's forehead pressed into deep lines, and to Elreth's horror, she dropped her face into her hands and began to cry.

"No, no, Jayah, please—"

But Jayah's cries, which began softly, were climbing, until she sobbed open-mouthed, her voice cracking in her throat.

Elreth trembled. She couldn't give in again! She couldn't do this!

Her anger roared then—what was Jayah doing, walking in here just to cry on her shoulder? Didn't the female think she was carrying enough?

"Get out," Elreth hissed. "Leave me."

"No," Jayah sobbed. "I won't."

"I said—"

"Elreth, you can't heal if you don't acknowledge your pain," she said fiercely, yet still crying, the tears trickling down her lined cheeks. "It was a lesson I taught your mother when she feared losing you, and I will teach it to you as well, in her honor."

"No! I don't want to learn that lesson! I'm carrying enough!"

"You carry too much. It's exactly why you need to let yourself grieve. Stop trying to push it away. You're only adding to your own pain. It is a deception that the weakness of your emotion will stay with you. Let it go, Elreth. Speak the truth. Feel the truth. Acknowledge the truth!"

"You think I haven't faced the truth?!"

"I think you are trying not to," Jayah said, pleading, one hand on Elreth's leg.

"I'm trying to keep myself functioning! I have a job to do and people I have to watch out for. If trying to keep myself here for them is the wrong thing—"

"Of course not—but you cannot walk through as if you are unhurt! You cannot forget that they are grieving also! When you speak of your pain, let them see it, then they will be able to grieve also!"

"So now I'm responsible for making it all okay for them?!"

"No! You are responsible to stop stifling what is within you."

"I can't! If I do, I'll fall apart!"

"And those of us here to help you will do so until you can get back on your feet—and meanwhile everyone else will know they, too, can struggle and it's okay. If even their Queen—"

"Stop! Stop saying that!"

"No, Elreth. It's the truth. Your grief honors them—all of them. You holding it back does not. And it doesn't allow others to honor them, either."

"Shut up!"

"I won't!" Jayah sobbed, but despite her tears, her ragged voice, her eyes were fierce and fixed on Elreth. "You carry too much—let us help you!"

"I just sat here with Behryn for an hour, you think that wasn't enough?"

"Not if you're still here looking like you will dissolve into these furs and never come out."

"Don't tempt me."

Jayah grabbed her arm and opened her mouth, ready to argue again, but Elreth's rage roared—the bonfire within her flaring to life, and with teeth gritted and lips peeled back, she swung a blow towards the female, screaming at her to let go!

But Jayah only leaned into her so Elreth's arm was thrown around her back. She pulled Elreth into her chest and held her tightly, pleading with broken whispers for Elreth to stop being strong. That being weak, keeping a soft heart was the way to win this—and all this through her own tears.

Elreth sagged in her grip. For a moment she almost gave in, almost tumbled headlong into her grief—not sharing it, as she had with Behryn, but surrendering to it.

She felt her heart try to drop and just as she would have lost her grip, she growled, "NO!" and sprung out of Jayah's embrace out of the furs, out of the room.

She heard the female stand up to follow, and she screamed, "LEAVE ME ALONE!" then raced out of her home full of the sights and smells of everyone she loved, and out into the Royal Meadow where she shifted and ran.

*****

It was instinct. Her beast took her to the Weeping Tree. But as soon as she arrived and her instinct to look for her mate here, to make sure her parents hadn't beaten them to it, rose in her heart, she screamed in sheer rage and pain.

It didn't matter where she went, or what she did, she couldn't escape this clawing pain!

She stood in the middle of the clearing, trembling, her body shuddering like the land had when the voices were defeated.

Then she opened her mouth and started to tell the Creator exactly what she thought of all this. All this pain and loss. All the ways that they'd been harmed, all the love they'd lost.

How could He say this was a good thing, a good place to be when He'd taken so much from them to get there?!

She tipped her head back and screamed at the sky. "HOW CAN YOU DO THIS TO US?!"

The wind rose, rustling through the Weeping Tree's beautiful long threads of leaves fluttering like fabric in the air.

It was so beautiful. How could he give such beauty in a world full of so much pain?

Then the wind rose in another gust, just as she inhaled, and everything in her body stopped.

The scent of that breeze turned her stomach to feathers.

There was a wolf nearby. A wolf her heart yearned for.

No, no. It couldn't be. He was gone—one of the Protectors must have a similar scent. This scent was different, a beast form, just similar to Aaryn's. She was torturing herself.

The Creator was torturing her.

"What a cruel trick," she seethed. "It's like you want me to be upset! Like you keep reminding me of everything you've taken. It's cruel! What about the promises for peace and joy? Where are those?" she cried to the sky. "My father lived the most faithful life of anyone I know, and he ended up dead at the hands of the voices? What kind of reward was that?"

That wind buffeted her again and this time a howl rose from within the trees, its haunting echo bouncing through the WildWood.

Elreth shuddered because it sounded like Aaryn's howl.

"No," she whispered. "You took him. Stop throwing it in my face!"

But the howl rose again and Elreth blinked and blinked, frozen in place, terrified to hope. Yet hope rose.

Then she started to run, tears blurring her vision.

Her heart sang in her chest, but she kept sobbing. It was impossible. It couldn't be, it couldn't be!

Then she burst into a nearby clearing just as the shadow of a wolf—silver and gray—appeared, galloping towards her.

Then suddenly the wolf shifted and it was Aaryn.

Elreth screamed his name and sprinted towards him as he leaped, tackling her to the ground, his hands clawed into her hair, his lips on her ear, sobbing and holding her. They tumbled into the grass and dirt, both crying, Aaryn thanking the Creator that he'd made it. It was a miracle. He'd made it and she was safe.

Thank you.

Thank you.

Thank you.

And Elreth, her nose full of the scent of her mate, her hands full of his warm strength, couldn't believe that her eyes and ears were true.

Aaryn was back.