[Present].

"Oh," was all Adolpha could manage, standing there in her doorway, dumbfounded, staring right back at Quince. Her fork was still in her hand, pancake resting on the spines of it. Quince was draped in the morning's sun, blue eyes twinkling.

"Hello," she said, smiling softly, "I've just come to ask a few." Her black curls were loose and short, just barely coiling past her ears.

"Well," Adolpha said, lips pursed, "Why don't you come inside?"

Quince nodded her thanks, clicking the door shut behind her and saying, "My, it's gotten quite chilled, hasn't it?"

"Just a bit. I don't suppose it will be a strong winter though, will it?"

"No," the dark woman shook her head, "I don't suppose it will." Adolpha took her plate from the coffee table, gesturing for Quince to have a seat where she had just been eating breakfast.

Then, Adolpha walked to the kitchen, painfully aware of Quince's eyes following her, "Tea?" She sat her plate down next to the sink, and it clinked quietly against the marble countertop. Then, she couldn't help but feel hot with stupid embarrassment, as it had been clear she had just made herself a pot of tea.

"That would be wonderful, Adolpha." At the mention of her name, a shrill tension ran up Adolpha's spine, tickling her. Why was she suddenly so nervous, so tense? Fidgeting, she took another pale teacup from the cupboard, rinsing it with pumped water from the sink. It gleamed, a window above the sink pouring yellow light over the glass. Then, she took the kettle from a lower cabinet, placing it in the sink, and began to let it fill with water. After she'd made tea earlier that morning, she'd gone through the effort of cleaning out the kettle; but now, watching it fill with water again, she felt a shallow pang for her wasted efforts. She dreaded cleaning it again. The water hit the enamel with a splattering, echoing sound, and reflected the window's light in a broken, swirling array. Adolpha then turned the faucet off with a squeaking handle, satisfied with the white kettle's fullness. She took and placed the teapot of gently splashing water over her cast iron, wood-burning stove, where she used a match to light a bit of charcoal beneath it. It flared with red embers beneath the kettle's bottom, and steam spewed from its elegant spout.

Adolpha's kitchen was on the larger side for a rounded house like hers, and it was quite practical. The floor and cupboards were smooth wood, and the countertops a beautiful white marble. There were rows of wooden cabinets along the top of the wall and also along the floor beneath the counters. The kitchen was in a U shape, and in the middle of the kitchen against the back wall was a square window, and then beneath that a double sink made of shining blue stones and tiles, a faucet made of steel and intricate white handles. Her wood cabinets were carved with delicate corner designs, giving the room a touch of fancy that Adolpha had always been fond of. Her wood-burning stove was also a fancy delicacy that Adolpha quite liked. While most houses had wood-burning stoves, none she had ever seen were quite as large and as beautiful as her own. It was made of cast iron, with a swinging door on the bottom half of it which could be opened for wood or coal. In it, there was a resting grate where Adolpha could roast something in a pan. Then, above the firing pocket was a flat top with four areas for pans or dishes. At the back of the stove was a funnel leading up and connecting to a pipe from the front of the house, which then led to a chimney outside. Her wood-firing stove could heat her entire house, and every-time she cooked, smoke puffed from the top of her chimney far above. Also in her kitchen, next to her counters, was a square tin washtub on three legs, a scrubber in it, where she could wash clothes.

As she was bent halfway down to strike a match and light the embers, Adolpha asked, "Why is it you've come, then?"

"Well, rush me out of your house if you're too busy to talk, Adolpha!"

Adolpha stammered, standing upright and then flushing, "No, Quince, it wasn't that at all!" She watched as steam began to pour from the kettle's enamel top.

Quince laughed; a tall, filling laugh, "Oh, don't be so coarse, Adolpha. I'm just jesting!" Quince sat on the sofa, relaxing back into it and tenderly watching Adolpha brew a mix of tea on the stove.

"Oh, right," Adolpha said. Her voice was a bit quieter then, and she looked down at her pot and fidgeting hands, avoiding Quince's face. For some reason, her own face and shoulders felt hot.

"Do you intend on getting a job, then?" Quince asked abruptly. She was always so abrupt, so callous, so confident. Adolpha liked that about her.

Adolpha sputtered her words, as if she herself was shocked that they'd appeared from her mouth, "A job? A job?"

"Yes, Adolpha," Quince said, voice rich with sarcasm, "Whenever we're not born to rich parents, the rest of us must work something called a job! An occupation? Do I hear bells ringing yet in that big head of yours?"

Adolpha chuckled, "Not quite. I'm thinking still."

"Oh, certainly. That's to be expected. Quite the thinker, still!" Quince laughed again, "Well, Adolpha, I know you've not worked in quite some time to care for May at home. But I thought you'd might be considering getting a job, now. And where is May, anyways? I've yet to say hello to her." Adolpha froze at the kitchen counter, eyes unfocused, staring right past the herbal water that simmered in front of her. Quince could easily see her stiffness, just as she always had been able to, and spoke with more tenderness, "Adolpha, are you alright?"

Hesitating, "Just quite, Quince." Her arm began to hurt, sending coursing pins and needles up it, and she gripped it awfully tight in response. Her heart felt like it was going to jump right out of her chest.

"Just quite, Adolpha?"

A bit strained, "It is, then. Out with it if you must." A bead of sweat formed on her forehead, and it wasn't from the heat of the steam accumulating before her.

"I'm concerned," Quince said at last, tone more serious than Adolpha had recognised before. She stood from the couch, "You're the only one of us who doesn't have a family to return to."

"My daughter is my family."

"Your daughter is becoming a grown woman and a rebellious teen both. She is your family, but she is not around anymore, is she? She's wanted to be an educator, hasn't she, for quite some time? Has she gone to live in a community building, one for students, then?"

"Damnit, Quince," Adolpha growled, hand still gripped on her upper arm, white at the knuckles and pink everywhere else.

Quince chuckled, being used to Adolpha's slight but easily burnt temper, "It's alright, Adolpha. I wanted to offer you me. I'm still here as your family." Adolpha turned from the simmering kettle to see Quince then standing right beside her, and she softened ever so slightly. She hadn't noticed Quince's quiet footsteps near her so.

"If you're my family," Adolpha said, "Then why didn't you stay at the inn last morning?"

Quince glanced away, "I'm sorry for disappearing. I was so eager to see Osbourn. Well, my parents too, but my goodness, how Osbourn has grown, Adolpha! You must come see him." She looked back at Adolpha, this time with a gleeful grin and large, starry eyes.

Adolpha could not stay upset. It was a flaw of hers, to immensely forgive, to immensely forget. She could forgive anyone for hurting her. She could never forgive anyone for hurting her loved ones, though. Thinking of it, she then considered if that alone was why she had stayed with Yakob for as long as she did. And then, she considered a friend that she had not yet said hello to: Chase. She shook that memory away; they'd been acquaintances for quite some time, and not much friends. Adolpha had kept herself holed up in her home with May, never venturing out too far, never socialising much. It was quiet, contented life. Quince had remained her friend, especially at the hard birthing of May, but even the two of them had begun to drift apart before their long journey.

Still, Adolpha found herself reminiscing about her childhood more than she probably should have. The loneliness of that big, empty house crept into her bones, and she found herself often daydreaming of her adoptive mother Ware, and of her parents. She found herself thinking of Danica, and how desperately she wished to fill the void and space between them. More than any of that, though, Adolpha found herself dreaming of her daughter. Oh, how she missed May.

"Is your arm still hurting you?" Quince's voice brought Adolpha back to the present.

"Oh, yes, just a bit." She rubbed her arm then, and the pain slowly subsided. It was a throbbing pain, like that of a wasp sting.

Quince smiled, "Tea, then?"

Excitedly, "Oh, yes!" It wasn't long before the tea was poured into delicate blue ceramic cups, and the two retreated to the living area's couch and coffee table.

"How can you stand to be alone all of the time?" Quince asked, chuckling. "Just normal to you?" She didn't seem aware of just how strong a cord her words struck Adolpha.

Adolpha forced a smile in response, taking a sip of her tea, which was sweet like honey, "It was. For a long time, it was. But being here last night... this house did not feel like a home anymore. It felt foreign... as if I was in someone else's house. It felt much too empty."

"You're an empty-nester, now," Quince said, "So, I believe that to be normal."

"Does it go away?"

"I'm not sure," she sighed, "I've never had children."

Adolpha lifted her head, grinning then, "Do you intend to?" She was more than happy to talk about something other than her own sad life.

Quince laughed, "Oh, Mother's sake. I think I'd rather be forced to eat little May's cooking another time than have a child of my own!"

Adolpha laughed, genuinely this time. Quince referred to a time when she was helping Adolpha with May. May had been a very young lass at the time, just learning to walk. They'd been in the backyard by the gardens, and little May had pulled up weeds and flowers and fruits, crushing them into a mush or poultice as if making a meal, and then forcing poor Quince to eat it. It was a wonderful memory, and Adolpha was delighted to know that Quince recalled it just as fondly as she did.

Adolpha's laughter settled, "She's not my little girl anymore." A shadow crept to her freckled face, to her blue eyes.

Quince kept her bright demeanour, "Why no, she isn't. She's a beautiful girl, and impressive, too." A sinking feeling came to Adolpha's chest as she thought of the little girl she had left behind, two whole years prior. Quince must have seen her falter, for she said, "You did all that you could, Adolpha."

Before she knew it, she was speaking, the weighted troubles on her shoulders spewing from her throat as shaky words, "I know, Quince, but I just worry so much about her being in that community home. I feel so much fear for her, even knowing that she is safe. When we were gone..."

"You didn't stop worrying about her. Not even once."

"No, I never did, did I?" Adolpha sighed, shrinking further, resting her elbows on her knees and hanging her head in her hands, "I just fear that she's now experienced what I felt whenever I was young, so many years ago." She felt awfully pathetic, sitting there, the tears just behind her lashes threatening to spill, the twist in her gut of something like grief.

Quince placed a hand on her shoulder, and with warmth spoke, "Adolpha, you left to save the balance of nature. You left to save May. That is so, so incredibly different from what Virulent put you through. Please... remember that."

Adolpha was not surprised to find Quince's warm stare as she lifted her head, but she was still just as breath-taken. She sniffled a bit, sitting up straight again, recollecting herself with a deep, shaky breath. The blockage in her throat did not subside, but it was manageable then, and she fought hard to not let Quince know that it was still there. Another deep breath. A moment of weakness was mighty alright, to Adolpha's standards, but a prolonged issue was not to be put on her friend's shoulders. They both had a lot to deal with upon coming back home. They both had their own burdens, and sharing them would only make the weight heavier.

Quince talked with more enthusiasm now, "Why don't you come with me and you can say hello to Osbourn. He's missed you nearly as much as he's missed me!"

She laughed, "That sounds like fun."

"After tea, then?"

"After tea." The two sipped for quite a while longer, talking the morning away in pleasant chatter. Adolpha asked Quince how Danica seemed, and Quince said that she seemed well. Quince also confirmed that Adolpha's suspicions were true, and Danica and Ajax had found a home together just farther down the lane. She told Adolpha of Osbourn's excitement to see Ajax once again, and Adolpha laughed at that.

"Osbourn wishes to see May again, as well," Quince said, shaking her head, amused. "I guess it did not occur to them that they could see one another without our permission while we were gone!"

"Oh, I'm sure it occurred," Adolpha chuckled, "But May is likely tired of babysitting, knowing that is what she does all day!" And Quince laughed, too, sipping her own tea. Then, Quince spoke of how Ajax's old job had decided not to take him back, and so now he was to talk to the other blacksmiths in the area. There was no shortage of blacksmiths, so his concern was merely that nobody would take him on for his young age.

Quince was born and raised with dirt and plants. Like her parents, she worked the farmland and sold crops. But Quince had a unique gift; she was extraordinarily talented at growing herbs and medicinal flowers that herbalists and doctors used. She'd fostered quite a market and gained quite a good reputation, and her business was upheld by her parents whenever she left, giving her an immediate income as soon as she had returned. Ajax, on the other hand, worked as a metal worker for years. He'd lived at a community building for a few short years, continuing his education in order to learn how to control flames and metals alike, and how to create quality tools and armour. Being a Feline, Ajax was much stronger than most Lycanthropes and Anthromorphs, and so his skills with hammerworking were unmatched in River's Bed. Adolpha knew that he would soon find another job, and a well-paying one at that, for his skills were formidable and in high demand both, even despite his young age.

The sun had raised to noon in the sky, surrounded by puffy white clouds. A low winter mist still hung over the village, but it was not as dreary as the early morning had seemed. Adolpha and Quince finished their teas, chatting heartily, and then returned to the kitchen where the ceramic cups would be washed under water in the sink. Adolpha already felt a bit shaky, regretting having two cups of tea that morning. Still, it had been worth it to share the morning with Quince. Finally, the two walked out the front door, headed to Quince's house.

Adolpha said, "I'm glad your family has been doing well while we were away."

"I'm glad, too," Quince said. The two trotted down the stone path of Adolpha's front yard, gently touching the tall grass which surrounded them. And soon, their feet met the road, which was muddy but flat. It was a short, pleasant walk to Quince's home. Not many others were walking about. The breeze was chilly, but fresh and delightful, bringing with it the strong perfume of rain and the smells of downtown. The cool wind touched Adolpha's face and tickled her short hair, and she sighed with contentment, or perhaps with relief. Either way, the fresh air seemed to be exactly what she needed, and she inhaled completely for the first time that day. Quince trotted ahead, a bounce in her step and also in her hair, a bit of mud licking her pant legs. Adolpha looked after her fondly, eternally grateful that she was finally safe.

The mist curled at their ankles, and a gentle shower sprinkled on top of them, and Quince squeaked, "Hurry up, Adolpha, before you're soaking wet!" And raced ahead, splashing footsteps behind her. The shower gave a calm background noise, creating an ambience that was unmatched in calmness and tranquility.

With enthusiasm and a newfound excitement, Adolpha laughed, racing after her with a, "Wait for me!" Hands above her head in a failed attempt to block the sprinkling droplets. A joyous energy filled her every limbs then, enticing her to run and play like an excitable puppy. Quince had been right; by the time they'd ran down the muddy lane and found Quince's house's doorstep, their hair was slick and clung to their foreheads, hiding their eyes, and the shoulders of their tan shirts were brown with moisture, stuck to their skin. Quince gave several quick, loud knocks on the front door, and it swiftly opened to her mother, Annabelle.

Her mother was just as dark in skin tone as Quince, but her hair was a lighter shade of brown rather than black, and her face was rounder, and much more wrinkled in her age. The lines of a smile worn many times before creased the corners of her eyes, and her cheeks were flustered red. Annabelle was a warm, motherly welcome, and quickly ushered the dripping girls inside, a concerned look on her face.

"My goodness, Quince," Annabelle said, "What a cold you and Adolpha will catch!"

Quince laughed, picking two towels from the kitchen, draping one over Adolpha's head and using the other for her own. Adolpha chuckled, blinded for a moment by the fabric, and then using it herself to scrunch and dry her dripping, curled hair.

"We'll be quite alright," Quince told her mother, assuring her with a tender touch to the hand, "We're not children anymore."

"To me, you will never be anything but."

"Oh, Ma," Quince shook her head, chuckling still, a white towel draped over her head, hiding her fronds of hair. Another difference between Quince and her mother was their length and style of hair; Quince was much too busy working the farm and gardens outside to deal with long, drooping hair, and so she kept hers short and coiled above her ears. Meanwhile, Annabelle had always kept her hair full and long, past her shoulders in a tight brown braid that pulled back on her forehead. Both were beautiful.

Their house was laid out similarly to Adolpha's, and yet, it felt much more like home to her than her own house did. The kitchen and living area was one large, rectangular room, in which the front door opened into directly. Quince's abode was still just as foreign, just as unfamiliar as Adolpha's had been to her; the furniture was a bit more worn than she remembered, the curtains and rug underfoot new and a different colour than two years ago. Still, it had that familiar, warm smell that Adolpha had recognised since her childhood.

Quince's house was much smaller than Adolpha's, and so, it was much cosier. Where Adolpha's house had wooden furniture, slick leather couches, and hide blankets, Quince's house had fluffy cotton blankets, wool couches, and lots of furniture that was soft-topped with goat or sheep hide. It was much more comfortable, but in contrast, much harder to clean. Quite honestly, it smelled a bit dusty, and a bit musky, as would a house full of soft fabrics rather than solid, easy-to-clean surfaces. But, it was still that smell that Adolpha knew and loved. The house always kept a sort-of sweet aroma, as both Annabelle and Nord, Quince's father, loved to bake sweets and breads. Adolpha was happy to oblige when asked to taste-test them, or even help bake them. Adolpha was modest, but she was a rather good cook, having years of experience cooking for May, who had been a rather picky eater whenever she was little.

At Quince's house, Adolpha could finally relax, for she knew that she would be well taken care of. Just as she had a thousand times before, she took sanctuary and comfort in being pampered by Quince's very kind parents. But this time felt... off. Instead of settling and relaxing, she held a guilt about it that she'd never had before. A heavy, dense guilt, one that shadowed her mind and ached her stomach, forcing sweat to bead along the line of her hair. Her forehead was already slick with rain, which she felt thankful for, as it well hid her sudden bought of nervousness. Her mind tumbled, and breathing was suddenly difficult.

Don't burden them, she thought, be helpful, more than you have been. Because that is what Adolpha was here to do: be helpful. She had only been born to save the world, after all, hadn't she? And so, even as she walked in to that warm home, a fire crackling in the fireplace, rubbing her hair and clothes of rainwater, she offered to help Annabelle with lunch, as it was around that time, and began to pick blankets up from the floor that little, funny Osbourn had scattered about in play.

"Oh, don't stress yourself, dear," Annabelle said to Adolpha, "You're always welcome here. You can relax."

"No," Adolpha responded, nodding with an assured smile, "It's alright, Ma'am. I just want to help." Annabelle seemed a little shocked, and then pleased, allowing Adolpha to continue with her house mousing. Adolpha's smile fell as soon as Annabelle turned away.

Nord was not around at the time, as he was at work; Quince's family was of farmers and owned several fields, but they were not on the property in which the small house sat, and so they were forced to travel quite a ways down the lane and into River's Bed's farming areas in order to plow the fields and tend to their gardens. Quince often worked the fields, but in light of her long journey and recent return home, she was taking a bit of a break to replenish her body and heal her wounds. She still gardened, of course, but decided to stay on the property rather than working at the fields. At least, for now. Until Nord returned home, Annabelle would do the cooking, and did so eagerly and with fun. She walked to the kitchen and stood at the counter, which was made of a dark stone, pulling flour from an apothecary jar and fresh amber eggs from a carton on the counter. Then, she pulled a large mixing bowl from the cabinet and poured, stirring with a whisk and adding a cup of water. Adolpha hadn't figured out yet what it was that Annabelle was making for their lunch, but either way, Adolpha felt the desperate need to help. In fact, it seemed more like a calling, a darkening at the back of her mind that deemed her worthless unless she had something to offer. Quince's family was so kind, and so hospitable, and Adolpha simply had to repay them in some kind way.

She took her and Quince's towels and dropped them in the kitchen's wash tub, which was round and of silvery tin, and then walked beside Annabelle and asked what else she could do to help. Quince watched from the couch, sitting comfortably and with a confused look of interest. Usually, Adolpha would sit on that couch with her, and although Adolpha was ever polite, it was new to see her practically begging Quince's mother for more chores to do. Through their journey, Adolpha had turned into someone new, and Quince had, too. And yet, the two recognised one another, even in such a state, and from where Quince sat, relaxing, she could even see then the shadow that loomed over Adolpha's face, the worry lines that creased her forehead, the nips in her chewed lower lip.

Adolpha had only been in that house for a short while when Osbourn finally showed his face, appearing down the hall from his bedroom, and then racing up it with that familiar child enthusiasm. He squealed, running right up to Adolpha and jumping upon her leg, and Adolpha turned to look at him with a laugh, a bit surprised.

"My, how you've grown!" She said, taking the boy into her arms, and he hugged her, kicking his feet excitedly.

"Adolpha! Adolpha!" He exclaimed, "Play with me!"

Adolpha chuckled, glancing back at the dough that her and Annabelle now kneaded, "Sorry, Osbourn. I'm helping your Ma make bread for lunch."

"Awe!" The boy said, lower lip out in a pout. He had hazel eyes, which were large and sad, and brown hair that was long and wavy. His skin was paler than his mother's, and instead matched the lighter tone of his father.

Annabelle waved a hand at Adolpha, "Go play with him. He hasn't yet been able to see you. I can manage bread by myself, just as I always do."

"But-"

"Go." Another sinking feeling. Adolpha's gut seemed to twist in on itself, and suddenly her skin was hot to the touch, and she wasn't certain what she should do. Finally, at the sight of a pouting, sad Osbourn, she decided; it would be rude not to follow Annabelle's word, after all. Adolpha would be able to make up for it later.

As she followed Osbourn down the hall, her thoughts swirled. It had even confused Adolpha, her own strange behaviour, and her own strange thoughts, which no longer felt like her own. And the question had to be begged: what exactly was she making up for? Hadn't she done enough already?

Nonesense, Adolpha thought, frowning more than she intended to, Quince and her family have done nothing but care for you, when you should have been caring for yourself. It's pathetic, and you should absolutely make up for it.

Osbourn's little, stompy footsteps down the hall reminded Adolpha of her own whenever she was little. Suddenly, she was focused on the present, and admiring how perfect this little child was while in play. The carpet underfoot was intricately designed, a soft, thick wool with red and black dyes in swirls and dots. It was luxurious. Osbourn, delighted, showed Adolpha his room; not much had changed, though his collection of toys had grown. He ran from one end of the room to the other, picking up toy after toy after toy to show Adolpha in a happy, excited frantic. Most of his toys resembled animals or creatures; some carved from wood, others moulded out of clay, and many of them were stuffed and lined with colourful fabric.

"This one is Jandar," he said, holding up a green alligator-type creature. Its head flopped to the side, showing the wool inside of it had been worn thin.

"Oh, really?" Adolpha asked, inticed, sitting on the floor in front of him.

"Ya!" Osbourn said, excited, "He defeats this other one, Monster!" He picked up another stuffed toy, one made out of black fabric, which had three heads and two spiked tails.

"Monster?" Adolpha asked, chuckling, "That's his name?"

"Well..." Osbourn smiled, "Maybe that's his name. Or maybe not! His Ma never knew!"

"Why does he need to fight Jandar, then?"

The little boy threw the two together, making incoherent growling sounds, "Because Monster is evil!" With emphasis, "Evil, I say!"

"Oh, my!"

Adolpha and little Osbourn played the afternoon away while Quince and Annabelle chatted in the kitchen. Adolpha and Osbourn stopped only for lunch, in which they were welcomed in the livingroom and sat at the table, partaking in Annabelle's splendid bread with sharp cured cheese, fresh lettuce, and pickled beats. Then, after lunch, Quince joined them in their ferocious games, and Osbourn was more than delighted to play with Jandar and Monster in long, over-exaggerated fights. Adolpha nearly missed the sky outside darkening, the temperature dropping, and the fire in the livingroom blazing warm.

As the afternoon settled into a painted pink and orange dusk, Adolpha and Quince allowed Osbourn to retire and rest in his bed, although he expressed complaint and did not want to, and meanwhile the two girls mingled in the livingroom with Annabelle. Soon, Nord returned home, and he gave Adolpha a warm handshake and jolly smile. He had a round face, a curled moustache, a bald head with the exception of grey sideburns, and wonderfully pink cheeks. He expressed joy everywhere he went, and Adolpha was more than pleased to see him doing so well. She was even pleased to see that he had not lost a single pound of his weight, and remained the plump man he always had been. He went to his and Annabelle's bedroom, changed into daily wear, and then returned to the kitchen.

Tying an apron around his waist, he began preparing a feast of broiled chicken and freshly baked bread for dinner, chatting to the family with glee. He asked about Osbourn, to which Adolpha replied that he had already retired for the night, but he would be woken for dinner soon; then Annabelle asked of Quince's and Adolpha's travels, to which they avoided the question and asked Nord about his day. Nord told them of his farming work, and of the neighbouring farms, as well. He was determined to grow better wheat this year, but he wasn't sure exactly how; but Quince rescued his ideas by discussing a new herbal blend she'd thought up for fertiliser. He thanked her, and the conversation ensued.

After approximately an hour had passed, dinner was ready to be served, paired with a bitter dark wine. The hot meal filled the entire house with a wonderfully savoury scent, and Adolpha felt her mouth water. Quince had woken Osbourn, who made himself the centre of attention at the table. Annabelle told him only once to calm down, and he'd done so with a mighty huff of frustration. That frustration turned back into excitement as his mother served him his dish of food: fresh wheat bread, topped with golden, steaming chicken in slices, and sided with beets and a sharp square of cheddar. It was delectable, and smelled just as good as it tasted.

Adolpha did not hesitate to grab herself a plate and eat all of it; and then ask for seconds, which Nord took as a well-earned compliment. By the end of the night, she was too full for comfort, but didn't regret a single delicious bite. Although, she did feel a pang of guilt for not having earned the free food, and made a personal promise to bake something swell for Quince's family soon.

A bit more chatter was heard and said, and then Annabelle's yawn signed to her that she was ready to sleep for the night. She took Osbourn to bed, and then she and Nord retired to their room, offering good nights and thank you's to the girls, who decided to stay awake for longer and empty another bottle of wine. The candlelights down the hall flickered and then dimmed into blue darkness. Then, only the candlelight from the chandelier in the comfortable livingroom and from the crackling, sparking fireplace remained.

Adolpha sipped her dark wine in a tall glass, asking, "What did you tell your parents whenever they asked of our travels?"

Quince sipped her own, "I didn't. It isn't my story to tell."

"You were there just as much as I was."

"You were our leader, Adolpha," Quince said, "You're the one that saved us all. Not me. Not Ajax. Not Danica. You."

Adolpha felt the bridge of her nose turn pink, "That's less than true, and you know it."

"And I know it," Quince mocked, her face flushed from her wine. "You're our rightful Mayor. The daughter of a Mayor!"

"You know it doesn't work like that."

"Come this election, Mayor Kelo will be upturned! I'm sure of it!"

"Quince," Adolpha sighed, "I don't want to be mayor!"

"Then what do you want?" She asked, exasperated.

Adolpha knew exactly how she wanted to answer, staring in the dim, flicking candlelight at Quince's reddened, smiling face. Her hair was loose and a few strands waved in front of her eyes, which reflected the orange, dancing light. Mother, she looked so beautiful.

Instead, Adolpha said, "I'm not sure yet." The wine began to stumble in her mind, and her thoughts flooded about. A flicker of something behind Quince's piercing blue eyes, and her dark pink lips parted ever so slightly, as if there was something she wanted to say but could not.

"I'm not sure yet, either," Quince said, "For I do not know what the future will bring. But I do know what it is I want to do tonight."

"What is it?"

"...How long has it been since you made the shift to a wolf just for fun?"