[Present].

Adolpha had sighed, standing in front of that marvellous cabin inn, disappointed and a bit surprised. Not thinking, she called out, "...Hello? Danica? Quince?" And a few by-passers walking the street gave her a strange look with their eyebrows raised. She shook her head, smiling gently at them, and then walking to her mule where he was still hitched in front of the inn. Her friends would have eagerly gone to their families and homes by then. The ground beneath Adolpha's mule was trampled with well-pathed dirt, grass growing up in spotty patches here and there. The scent of late summer filled the moving air, with pollens and nectars drifting in on the cool early morning breeze.

From there, Adolpha had mounted her mule and jogged with him back to her home, which was completely on the other side of the town. It was a bit of a walk, and she was met with shocked expressions, excited gestures, waves and "hello!"s. She didn't know what to think nor what to feel; she was a bit confused, and most of all, exhausted from the social interactions; exhausted from the judgement, the wary glances and gossip behind raised hands.

The first thing Adolpha had done after getting back on that mule was reunite with her daughter. Whenever she left those two years prior, May had still lived with her in that humble home on the sunny terrace. So, the first place that Adolpha went to was her home.

It was just as she had left it. Granted, everything was layered with dust, but otherwise, everything was the same. Exactly the same. The books scattered along her bedroom floor were still scattered; the wax candles lit in the dining hall were burnt out and melted flat, having never been put out; her chair was still pulled out from the dining table, her pot still on the stove in the kitchen, empty. The scene felt surreal as she walked into the familiar home, gently touching the wood of the dining table in the main quarters, which stood close to the front door. It was certainly a beautiful caramel colour, even now, layered with dust. She put her freckled fingers to it, and they picked up the dust along their tips, making lines in it across the table like snow.

The abode was dark, no candles being lit, and was only lightened by the streaks of sunlight pouring in from the front two windows. Still, shadows casted along the plank floor from couches, tables, and chairs were long and dark. She could see the flurries of upturned dust floating as tiny white specks in the golden beams of light.

But more than the creeping morning shadows and the lingering grey dust was the eeriness of large, empty silence. Every footstep across hardwood floor clicked and creaked, echoing dully in the cavernous living room. Every touch to the table squeaked lightly like a pin drop in a large silent auditorium. It was clear: nobody had lived here for two years, not even May.

Adolpha had to beg the question, then, of where she could have possibly been; where was she living, and who was she with? A sinking feeling in her chest, a pang of something breathtaking like fear, and she had left her home in such a rush that the door had not quite been shut all of the way. Luckily, River's Bed was known for its good, peaceful people, and it was highly unlikely that anybody would be breaking in to her old house anytime soon.

On fast legs, Adolpha walked down the terrace on a path of large, flat stones turned into a beautiful, semi-natural staircase, tall wildflowers and cattails surrounding them, and moss growing along them. Her red fabric jacket was more of a cloak, going down past her knees and flying behind her like one as she jogged. Her hair was curled and buoyant, bouncing with her every step, gleaming orange under the sun. In the distance, clouds began to roll, at first puffy and white like cotton, but progressively darkening the farther out that they got.

At the bottom of the grassy slope was her mule, hitched to a bar at the base of the terraformed staircase. He huffed at her eagerness, pawing the dirt with a wide brown hoof.

"I know," Adolpha soothed him, just as she had many times before, "Just a bit more walking, huh?" He sneered, nostrils flared and huffing again, tall ears flicking. She gently petted along his flat neck, and he calmed, standing still for her to mount. The mule's legs were certainly sore, but he was strong and draft, and would be just fine even after a bit more walking. He'd gone this far, after all. Adolpha climbed onto the equine's saddled back and rolled the reigns, giving him a gentle touch with her boots along his sides, signalling him to get walking. She'd never truthfully been an 'animal' person; no, that was reserved for her daughter. Instead, Adolpha preferred plants and dirt, spending days out the back of her house where many gardens bloomed. She hadn't thought to check on those just yet, and wondered with unrest what they now looked like. Weedy and vining, perhaps.

She wasn't quite sure what she was looking for as she trotted once again through town in those same raggedy clothes. Adolpha hadn't thought to change them while she was home, and now, seeing a thousand eyes upon her once again, heads turning as others worked in their yards, she wished he had. She wished she had a different look, a different face. She wished that she was anyone but herself. 

Although, to put it quite, she didn't feel like herself. Not in a long time had she really felt like herself.

Trotting through town, she scanned each and every building down the main lane, and then she hooked a left and walked down another lane, and another, and another, searching for her daughter, but not being certain of what exactly to look for. Every house looked different and yet similiar, like the same word in many different fonts. The abodes were tall, short, squat, wide... the shapes and styles were all different, but the materials used to build remained the same for each one. Clay, granite, stone, wood, among other various natural commodities, giving the town a browned, earthy feel. Every yard was fresh with greens and flowers. Even in the dry summer, their farms and gardens grew plentiful, thanks to a large river than ran not far from the village, claimed under River Bed's property. Eyes wandering, scanning, Adolpha eventually spotted a house with a difference: it was much larger than the rest, and in fact, didn't really seem like a single house at all, for it had multiple entrances and about a dozen windows, with a lot of farmland to accompany it. It was a home in which many shared separate areas, as if three or four abodes had been put together into one.

Adolpha knew well that this familiar, huge house was for school-things, such as teachers or older students. Next to it was another large building: a schoolhouse. There were several: one for young children, one for older children, and one for continued education thereafter. Many students went to basic school as a child, but then graduated early and went to work on their parents farm, one day to be inherited by them. Others graduated early and then began training to become a guard. Guards protected territory borders and managed jails, breaking up bar fights or solving crimes like petty thievery. They also protected the Mayor at all times. Besides these, however, some folk stayed in school for even longer, becoming teachers, herbalists, leatherworkers, metalworkers, or veterinarians, which were all necessary occupations as well. Other times, folk went off to start their own small business or shop, which is oftentimes where dress shops, bookstores, and bakeries came about. There was a wide range of jobs that one could obtain in River's Bed, making for a fulfilling and plentiful town, never short of business, things to sell, or things to buy. It was a fond town of travellers and traders, who would  pass through the town for a night or two and barter, staying at one of their many inns and dining at a pub or bakery. They were of welcoming people.

Adolpha stopped on her steed on the gravelled path, a few lanes from her own house, watching that large abode for quite some time as the sun rose higher overhead. She wasn't sure what drew her to it, but something about it's essence loomed over her, and she wondered heartily it May could have been living there, getting schooling and learning to be a teacher just as she always wanted to be.

People passed her by on the street, either on mules or on foot, watching her as she stood still, like a rock in a flowing river. After a few still moments, her watchful eyes caught glimpse of long blonde hair through a wide  front window; and then, out from the front door walked May.

At first, she didn't notice Adolpha, simple walking to the side and glancing over one of her front raised beds. It grew wonderful-looking squash, vining over the sides and sprouting large green leaves with three arms. It spilled from the wooden bed and over the stepping stones in the front yard. She dug her hands into the sweeping plant, which seemed to have limbs like an octopus, and pulled out a rather large green zucchini, brushing the dirt off on her tan shirt, giving it a pale sheen. She smiled, the edge of her delicately hair white under the sun. She was beautiful and happy, and Adolpha smiled.

"Watch it!" A man yelled roughly, pulling his mule by its harness past Adolpha, motioning to her, "You're holding people up!"

She fumbled with her words, a bit unaware of having been stopped for so long, "Oh, sorry!" At the unusual ruckus, May looked up with green eyes, and frowned as she saw Adolpha sitting there on her mule, still turned away towards the walking man. Then, Adolpha turned back to the sight of her daughter and perceived new home; and that was where their reunion began.

May had watched, starstruck, the sun igniting the outline of her mother in a brilliant white, turning her ginger hair to vibrant orange, and her dusty red cloak to pink. With a white silhouette, Adolpha stared right back, the emotions slow to come to her, for she was shocked as well.

"Ma?" May finally said, gently placing the zucchini back in the flower bed, taking a few hesitant steps towards the dusty road where her mother stood, traffic walking around her.

Adolpha allowed herself to sink into the saddle, shoulders relaxing. She let out a breath she hadn't been aware she was holding, and a terrible trembling came about to her shoulders and fingers. She slid off of the mule, leading him by a harness to the community house's yard, and then walked towards her daughter, who was both beauty and grace in her morning light. The sun rose ever higher, the sky ever bluer.

"Ma?" May asked again, her mouth lifting in the corners ever so slightly, ever so effortlessly. The wind rustled her hair, and it's elegant yellow curls flattered. Her cheeks were pink, her eyes emerald, and her nose tangerine, dotted with pale orange freckles, just like her Ma.

Adolpha broke, watergates rushing then, voice cracking, "Oh, May." Her posture broke, and took several quickening steps, and then swept her daughter up into her arms.

"Ma!" May exclaimed, but did not protest, holding her back.

"My, look at the tan on you, my girl!" Adolpha said, smiling widely, tears welling and flooding. Her face was red.

"Ma!" May exclaimed again, this time in protest. "Just a bit of work outside, is all!"

"No, not a bad thing," Adolpha squeezed her tighter, sighing with relief. She was safe. May was back in Adolpha's arms and safe. My, she could remember when May was just a young lass, a beautiful newborn, just as beautiful as she was in that moment, and just as temperamental, too. She was never one to cry or throw tantrums, but the sass on the girl was unmistakable, and she could argue with anybody about anything to the ends of the earth. "You're so beautiful, May," was all that Adolpha could manage, her voice hoarse.

May chuckled, "I know, Ma. It's so good to see you."

"It's so good to see you, my precious daughter." Their embrace could never last forever, though it seemed to for a long while, and May was the first to retreat, smiling pink.

"Ma, you'll never believe what has become of me and this community home!"

"Tell me everything."

May's brightness dimmed, and her smile fell, "I naught to."

Adolpha felt physically weak, physically pained, stomach twisting in on itself, "Oh, May?"

"No," she said, glancing at the grass beneath her feet, a vine running alongside them, "I naught to. Why don't we get tea sometime, and we can talk then?"

She faltered, "Oh. Tea? Why mustn't I come inside, and I'll brew you the finest tea just in this very moment."

"I'm very busy," May said, quieter. Adolpha watched as with a single, small step backwards, her daughter recoiled from her like a snake, repulsed or disgusted  or in pain or something horrible. Adolpha couldn't help the breaking, faltering feeling beneath her skin, the fall of her heart and the taking of her lungs, the pounding behind her eyes. She felt nauseous suddenly.

"May," her voice was riddled with desperateness, "What is it? What's wrong?"

"When you left, Ma, I didn't know why. I mean, I knew why, but I didn't understand. For a time, I thought you'd abandoned me. And then I came to terms with the thought that you may never return." She smiled softly, taking Adolpha's calloused hand in her own, "I am so overjoyed to see you safe. To see you here and now." The smile faded, her hand fell away, "But I had to live on my own much before my time. I grieved the loss of my mother, and then I overcame it. I've missed you so much, Ma," with emphasis, "But I'm not your May anymore. I'm just May, my own."

"Oh..." Adolpha drifted away. "I understand."

"Perhaps next week we can get together for tea, after you've had time to clean your house."

Not thinking, eyes glossy, "Well, alright..."

May was pained to see her mother so, and watched as she seemed to age centuries in front of her, and the worry and guilt was written across May's face; but her words were true. Her mother had abandoned her, and now she must reap the consequences. May had been well off for quite some time, then, and didn't intend to destroy how far she had come for the sake of her mother's feelings. If her mother was strong enough to conquer evil and save the world, May had thought, then she was strong enough to deal with her daughter moving out, too.

Adolpha finally spoke, a bit pained and pale, "Are you a teacher?"

May smiled genuinely, excited that her mother had recalled her dream, and responded, "I'm a teacher's assistant. I work in the classroom. I help the kids, Ma. And my roommates are all so wonderful... I can't wait to talk it with you, Ma, truly. For now, I must tend to my gardens." She lowered, "This week. Tea. I'll come to you. I promise."

Adolpha took her words and swallowed them, holding onto them like a memory, "Yes. Tea." She straightened her back and smiled. She would have tea with her daughter very soon. Her daughter was safe. The world was right.

"I suggest you tend to your gardens, as well," May said, winking. Adolpha knew exactly what that meant, and laughed. Instead of having overgrown, rambling gardens to come home to, she knew that they would have been well-cared for by her daughter, and surely beautiful and green.

They gave another hug, saying a few more causal words; a few tears were spilled on both sides, not wanting another goodbye to come so soon, but alas, it did, and then they parted with warm smiles. Yes, all was right.

But then Adolpha went home. She'd looked over her backyard gardens and found that they didn't need tending to at all except for a few weeds pulled. She plucked a few blossoms and put them in a vase filled with cool water from her sink, grateful once again to have such an exclusive pumping system. And then, the sky grew orange, and then clouded a bit; then grew navy, splattered with stars, clouds rolling in, giving the ground a foggy mist and shrouding the moon. And Adolpha was all alone in her far too large, quiet, empty house. She had dusted every top with her feather duster, swept the floors, and cleaned the kitchen, but had not yet changed her clothes, staring out that window and down the lane at Quince, recalling their tender childhood, her injured arm aching. Adolpha already needed another shower, being out in the sun for the good part of the day and sweating up a storm. The sun had given her back, shoulders, and face their fare share of spotted freckles. The wind picked up its speed and sound. Beneath the mist in the sloped yard, there were rolling wildflowers and cattails, whipping in the wind. The house creaked, shutters trembling. The air smelled of humidity and cooling rain.

She had watched for a while and then retired to her bed with a nightgown on, but sleep would not come, so she stayed awake, staring at the dark ceiling deep in thought for a while. Eventually, her heavy lids fell shut and her body calmed.

When she awoke, her lips were dry, her throat sore, and her forehead slick. She could smell the humidity from where she laid, and knew that rain had poured while she'd been sleeping, and continued to fall in a gentle, pittering mist, which she could hear from the round shingled roof overhead. Adolpha was desperate to get back into a routine, back into some sort of normalcy, but having been away from her home for so long, she wasn't quite certain what her routine was anymore.

Still, she got out of bed and dressed herself in daily wear, finding that her clothes were baggier on her than she'd remembered. She was quite plump whenever she had left River's Bed, but now, staring down at her form, she seemed frail and thin. Shadowed, even. She shook her head, trying to shake off the bad feeling, and continued with her forced normal, wandering to the kitchen to make herself a brew.

Giving herself a bit of leisure, Adolpha brewed herself a fine cup of tea with a rare herbal bag. The water was warmly gold and translucent, like honey. It smelled like honey, too, and warmed her hands. She carried it into the living area, past the dining room, where she sat on the puffy couch and sighed with contentment, soaking in the morning light coming from the windows.

She sipped her sweet tea for a while, breathing in the tranquil morning air, which seemed almost cold and perhaps lonely. But the filtering sunlight from the front of the open-concept house was distracting her, for some reason that she could not place, and so, of course, she investigated. Standing from the couch, she placed her cup on the wooden coffee table with a clink, and then made her way back to the same window that she'd looked out for quite some time the night before. There was a bench in front of it, one lined with goat skin and stuffed with cotton, making a comfortable seat. Here, she sat once again, staring down the lane. This time, she didn't stare at Quince's house, but rather at the people walking down the lane, and then past the street and houses to their neighbouring streets and houses, admiring in awe the large scale of River's Bed. A gentle sprinkle fell down on the town, the droplets of water looking like small white crystals falling through the air. Adolpha was fascinated with the people, with the town, and with the fertile land.

Like many others, just down the lane, Quince lived with her parents. She also lived with her little brother Osbourn, and once, her adoptive Feline brother, Ajax. Ajax had joined them on their journey, having been a blessed one himself, and so Adolpha knew him well. He was the same age as Adolpha and Quince, still a young lad, and a very vibrant one at that, with jokes that were poor to Adolpha's taste. Still, he knew how to make a crowd laugh, and that was worth a lot. And he knew how to make Adolpha's sister laugh, as well. Over their journey, the two had grown close, and then made quick plans on their journey home to get a house together as soon as they stepped foot in River's Bed. Adolpha hadn't seen them since last night at the inn, but she had reckoned that they went out and did exactly that, leaving Quince, Osbourn, and her parents in that house down the lane.

With the aching loneliness and quiet, even in the light of dawn, Adolpha found herself even wishing for her sister's company then. After everything that Virulent had done, Adolpha and Danica had never seen eye to eye, and never would. Adolpha shuddered a bit. The Saurion's name felt foul, even if just to think it. Though she was certain her sister would feel differently.

Despite everything, Adolpha and Danica were still sisters, and cared about each other very deeply; but they also tried to avoid each other as much as possible. Adolpha wondered if she would ever even see Danica again. It was a big town, after all, and with neither of them seeking the other, it was very possible that they'd never stumble upon and meet one another again.

Adolpha was young herself, just like the rest of the blessed group. At the age of 40, Adolpha was a bit underaged for a Lycanthrope to be living on her own yet, which made it particularly curious that her daughter lived somewhere else now. She had expected her daughter to stay home for another 30 years, at least. But, then again, it was widely accepted that underaged folk could live at the community house in order to pursue their education. And, without thinking of it, it was a fact that Adolpha's absence had temporarily turned her daughter into an orphan, which was also an exceptional case for a Lycanthrope to live on their own.

It wasn't that younger Lycanthropes were incapable of living on their own; rather, Lycanthropes were pack animals, and hated living on their own. It was customary that until some force such as marriage or a career pushed one out of their home, then they would stay, even if it meant living with their parents until they were 100 years old. Adolpha scoffed at the thought, amused by it. She wondered if she would have lived with her parents until she was 100 years old, had she ever had the chance to.

Both of her parents were taken from her at an age much too young, when she could almost not remember them. But the short, faded memories that came back to her were her prized possession, and she thought of them every single night, desperate to never let go of the love, memory, and simplicity that her parents offered to her. Adolpha knew that this would be the one circumstance her and Danica thought alike of. They both missed their parents, though had grieved in different ways.

In a lot of ways, Adolpha missed her sister. On their journey, they had reunited, but not in the correct way; some part of it felt emotionally missing, or perhaps fake. When Adolpha was very little, her and Danica were inseparable, attached at the hip. And then Quince came about, and Adolpha became joined to her hip, instead, though at the time she was a little boy known as Keith. Adolpha knew that her parents had fawned over Quince and her wings and intelligence. Perhaps Danica had felt left out. Perhaps Adolpha would never know.

Sitting there in the light of the morn, Adolpha did wonder if she had shut Danica out before Danica had done the same. Either way, it didn't matter then; after Virulent's work, there was no repairing what family was lost.

At long last, Adolpha stood from her seat by the window, stretching and waking herself up a bit more than she had been. She wondered how long it had been. An hour, perhaps? Two? She was a bit lost, and unsure of where to go from here. Though, Adolpha knew it would be good for her to get out and show her face, growing accustomed to the town's way of life once again after having been no less than a vagabond for so long.

So, of course, she did not do anything of the sort, and instead stayed home, putting a pen to paper in her office. Her assumption was that by writing of her travels and her trauma, she could move past it. Writing was surely just as good as actually talking to someone, wasn't it?

Truth be told, a dark shadow seemed to hang over her head, raining down on her shoulders in a way that she couldn't seem to shake. But she was determined to set her schedule, and decided to begin her day with a hearty breakfast of roasted vegetables from her garden, salted ham, and pickled beets. In hindsight, Adolpha didn't remember cleaning out her kitchen before she had left; the group had originally left in such a hurry. She decided that May must've been up to it, cleaning out her kitchen whenever she still lived at home, after Adolpha had left. Silently, she made a mental note to thank her for it whenever they had tea later that week.

As she was eating her hot breakfast, Adolpha was stirred by a knock at the door. She swallowed her last bite quickly, walking to the door and opening it to see none other than Quince herself.