[Present].

Adolpha was taken aback, looking a bit confused.

"Well?" Quince asked, expectant.

"I'm not sure," Adolpha responded, hesitant, face and head flushed pink with wine. "I don't know that I've ever been a wolf just for fun, except maybe on holidays. But at random? Isn't that a bit scandalous?"

Quince laughed, "Pfft! When have you ever participated in something that wasn't?"

"Oh, you're a bad influence, Quince! And beside the matter, we aren't children anymore."

"Might as well be," Quince huffed, leaning back in her red padded chair, hands folded across her chest. "You're just upset that May forced you to grow up beyond your years. And it isn't anyone's fault that you got pregnant as a child."

Adolpha's eyes widened from the shock, and then she sputtered a laugh, "Wasn't anyone's fault, was it? Is that what people say?"

Quince shook her head, "Nope, but they've all got their mighty theories."

Intrigued, leaning forward on the table then, "Let me hear one."

"Well it was little Osbourn's theory that Mother Nature gifted you with child to make you stronger for our journey!"

Adolpha laughed, "Well, I am not sure that he would be too far from the truth. May was just as much of a blessing as my own magic."

"That is true," she nodded, almost thoughtfully, but Adolpha knew that Quince's mind was a twirling mess from the wine just as her own. "Another drink, then, and then we shift?"

"Oh, I'm not too sure about that one, Quince," Adolpha said, glancing down at the table.

"Don't be, Adolpha! We'll go far into River's Bed's forests or perhaps wheat fields, and nobody will see us! We can catch mice for the farmers, the ones that have been digging up their planting seeds!"

Adolpha lifted her chin, and her gaze was met with Quince's. There was no saying no to her, not now. And Adolpha didn't even want to say no; in fact, her gut was itching for the change, for the playfulness and wholesomeness of a night out as a wolf. She was aching for a holiday, or perhaps a vacation, and she thought that this may have been just what she was looking for.

"Oh," Adolpha said after a moment of strained silence, "I would hate to impose."

"What is wrong with you, Adolpha?" Quince asked, her words delicate and comforting, light as a feather. "You have been doing chores, helping my Ma. You know that we appreciate the help, but that is quite unlike you. Whenever you'd been to my home in the past, coming over for dinners or lunches, you'd always joined me on the couch to talk and mingle. But this time you were far away, and the only chance for talk we got was whenever you were eating your meal in front of me. It was quite rude, you know!"

She faltered, shrinking back into her own chair from across the table, "I'm greatly sorry, Quince." Of course, Adolpha thought, scowling at herself, I wasn't even thinking about Quince. I was just thinking about myself again. Is that all that I think about?

Quince stood, slamming a flat hand on the dining table's surface with a bang, "Damnit, Adolpha! Don't hide away from me, like that, you stubborn, pessimistic fool! You needn't feel the way that you feel, and I wasn't upset with you!" Her voice and face softened, and she sat back down, "I could never be upset with you."

Adolpha said nothing. She merely stared at her fidgeting hands beneath the table, her skin suddenly hot and sticky, her breathing quick, and a harshness within her chest like a pounding weight that she alone was forced to carry.

Quince continued, "You'll take the time to heal. I know that you will. But for now, you mustn't be so hard on yourself. You have done more than enough for this village."

"I've come back a hero, Quince," Adolpha said, "And you've seen the looks. You've heard the gossip."

"Yes, and ignored it."

"But I cannot," Adolpha faltered, voice low, "What will this town think of me if I can no longer take care of myself? If I left to save them as a woman and came back as a little girl, whenever the opposite should have been true? What will your family think whenever I give you my burdens?"

Quince reached a hand over the table's wooden top, a gesture for Adolpha to extend her own and meet it. As she had done a thousand times before, Adolpha did so, touching a soft fingertips to Quince's.

Quince said, "I cannot answer the questions that you have, Adolpha. But I am here as your friend, and I am here to tell you that you owe this village nothing else. You owe me nothing. Please believe that."

"You've not lied to me before," Adolpha said.

"No, I very much haven't." Quince gave her a small, reassuring smile, and Adolpha suddenly wondered why she had been so nervous before; why the air had felt so thick and awkward between them. And that, too, she guessed, was the familiar feeling of fear. That's what it had been, hadn't it? Adolpha had been afraid upon arriving home that she would be stuck in that cold, lonely house forever; that she would be stuck in that house where she watched her mother die for the rest of her life. Adolpha was so tenderly scared that Quince would no longer be her friend upon their arrival home. And that first morning at that beautiful inn, as she walked outside to find her companions absent, that fear only worsened its tight grip upon her. Although, with her hindsight intact, she found there was no real reason to worry. Quince, Ajax, and Adolpha had all been good friends for a very long time. That wasn't going to change anytime soon, not even so that Danica was in the mix.

And then there was Danica again, and Adolpha couldn't help but feel a pang or cringe; something like grief, something like disdain, and something like regret. For the day she had lost her parents was also the day that she had lost her dear sister, and whenever she finally got her sister back, she was no longer what Adolpha would call family. But then Adolpha gave a long thought to it: Danica's life and upbringing at the hands of Virulent. She was always so quick to defend the monster, but there was quite a time when Adolpha would have defended Yakob, as well, and she couldn't help but picture how strangely similar the two situations seemed to be. And then it all began to make sense. Like a puzzle, the pieces fit together in snapping perfection, creating a larger picture that Adolpha would never see all of, despite being right at the heart of it.

Whenever the small group had initially left, Adolpha had just been one of the few, and Quince was more their leader than anyone else. But as their journey progressed, Adolpha gained the respect and affection of her peers, and slowly took a leadership role. It wasn't through decisiveness, or intelligence, or even wisdom; it had been through gained power. And now, some assumed that she would use that power to lead River's Bed. Though, Adolpha quite liked Mayor Kelo, even in his growing age of near 100 years, and he had ruled River's Bed with strength through war and famine alike for nearly 40 of them. She did not plan to usurp him. In fact, she hated the thought, and hated the way that River's Bed stared at her: not with affection, but with a sense of disbelief, a sense of not belonging. She felt as if she was Virulent himself, having gained power through a dying God, planning to rule herself. And so, she did not plan to rule, as that would be one more difference setting her and Virulent apart from one another.

"Come on," Quince said, dragging her words and pulling Adolpha back to the present. "Let's go! Just for a short while."

"Alright, alright," and Adolpha allowed herself to be pulled by the wrist out of the front door, and into the cool night's misty air. It was oddly eerie, and winter settled across the land in a chilled fog. Frost layered the mud of the street, and it crackled beneath their footsteps.

"To the farms!" Quince said, excitedly.

"Shh!" Adolpha said, more nervous than excited. She was rather worried that someone sound asleep in their home would hear the two girls' ruckus as they trotted along through the trampled street. Adolpha could hardly bear the thought of the rumours and gossip that would surely spread like wildfire if she and Quince were caught galivanting after dark like juveniles. Regardless, Quince dragged her by the wrist all the way down the lane, past dozens of shops and houses and gardens, until the two were far past the heart of the town and the buildings began to disperse, making room for lots of fertile, rolling land. A forest rested, alive and breathing, at the far back edges of the farmland, and in the distance, mountains shrouded in low-hanging fog, reflecting blue moonlight. Some of the disperse, open farmland had freshly upturned dirt, planted with new seeds or fertiliser; some of the land still had cold-hardy crops growing, such as pale, leafy greens, broccoli, and lettuce. Interestingly, one large field way down in the town, close to an outer road, still had an abundance of summer grain growing tall in soft, yellow stalks. The tall grass had browned ends from frostbite, and the grain on it had long since been picked and cracked and turned into flour; but the dying stalks remained, not yet having been pulled and prepared for next spring, and as such they were tall and weedy, nearly as tall as Adolpha. The wheat stalks flowed in the chilly wind like the air upon ocean water, creating soft moving waves. A light sprinkle began to drizzle down, droplets twinkling under muted night light, falling so slowly that it was barely recognisable as rain and not as that familiar winter mist. 

In the winter, the continent's lands grew wet and humid more than cold. In fact, the seasons were much less winter, spring, autumn, and summer, and much more a simple split between a warm and dry growing season, and a cool and wet growing season: each growing different types of crops. River's Bed, being in an area where the winters were short and mild, often stuck to growing summer and spring crops; though some few farmers did grow during the winter. Other villages, such as Adam's Peak, kept to growing their winter greens instead of any summer crops. It was better for a village to specialise in growing one or the other, as growing both on the same farmland would render the soil infertile after only a few years. The soil needed periods of rest in between harvest and planting, allowing it to fertilise and dampen, rejuvenated. Adolpha felt like this wet soil underfoot, needing rest and relaxation in order to feel completely healed once again. 

The warmth of her wrist slipped away as Quince pranced ahead and let go of her touch, much like a colt's newborn mule, stretching their legs for the very first time in dance and tremendous, bounding play. Into the yellow, moonlit fronds she disappeared, becoming a nighttime shadow, quick and fun and mostly hidden. Adolpha watched as Quince's strong, muscular build coiled behind the tall grass and became low to the ground, rustling the wheat stalks with a loud, crinkling sound. The soft, misting rain gave a low static noise against it. Adolpha shook her head in disapproval, though amused, as Quince reappeared to her through the waving thickets as a large, scruffy black wolf. Quince looked up at Adolpha with a canine's blue eyes and a long, black snout, as if pleading Adolpha to join her. Her fur was thick, covering the wolf's entire body, reminding Adolpha of a sheep in desperate need of being sheared.

Quince barked, "Come along, Adolpha! The night is perfect for a wolf's play!"

"A wolf's play is sacred, and should be reserved for important festivities," Adolpha reasoned, a hand raised.

"Is our safe return not a reason for festivity?" Quince asked, cocking her head to the side just as a dog would. One of her triangular ears flopped to the side a little, and Adolpha could not argue with that. 

With a begrudging groan, and a stomach swirling with fluttery anxiety, "Alright..."

Quince leapt up on her paws, yipping excitedly, tail wagging, "Oh, how delightful! Come, then, and romp in the hay with me!" With that, the black wolf turned and sped into the rustling tall wheat. Adolpha shook her head, chuckling, and allowing that uncomfortable flutter in her stomach to subside. Quince was right; their chances of being found playing as wolves so far from the heart of town were slim, and regardless, it was no crime that they were committing; it was simply unconventional play. Adolpha made the decision, then, to join her friend in gallivanting as a wolf, and she leapt into the deep grass as one as if jumping into a lake, landing on all fours, coated with soft pelt. Then, she could suddenly see in the dark and smell every tumbling scent. Through the shadow of the grass, she could catch glimpses of Quince's dark, running pelt, and make out her familiar scent to a fine-tune. 

At first, Adolpha crouched low to the wet ground, the fringe from her stomach touching it briefly. She let her nostrils flair, filling them with Quince's scent, which moved from place to place just as she did in play, and drifted in new directions along the cool, waving wind. With Adolpha's new coat, she suddenly did not feel chilled in the winter's night, but rather comfortable, partaking in the youthful and exuberating essence of it. As Quince's sprinting form neared, creating quite the ruckus of rustling twigs, Adolpha held, prepared her hind legs with tension, and then pounced, leaping through the brush at great speed and with great strength. Adolpha hit her mark, and with a gasping laugh, pounced right on top of Quince's wolf, who rolled and yelped beneath her. Then, she pushed Adolpha off of her and sat up, glaring. 

"Adolpha!" She said, nearly breathless, "That was rude!"

"You're the one who suggested romping in a farmer's field," Adolpha said back, enjoying the banter. "I can't think of anything quite more rude than that." She sat up, too, facing Quince, surrounded by a cave of tall yellow grass.

"Well, you are the one who joined me!" Quince said, tongue lolled from her mouth in a heavy pant, dripping with dips of spittle. Adolpha's wolf did the same, chest heaving beneath pale fur. Together, the two wolves made for an excellent contrast in colour, just as they did as people. Quince's fur was a deep ebony, dotted with a few greyed hairs here and there, giving her a dark agouti pelt. Adolpha's wolf, on the other hand, had a marvellously brown or reddish-tinted pelt that shown bright orange when under the sun, matching her usual hair. Then, beneath the rusty red tone were pale white furnishings along her stomach, paws, underside of her face, and the tip of her tail. Both had crisp blue eyes to match. To Quince, Adolpha was quite a colourful and unique wolf. Adolpha, however, seemed to prefer the natural simplicity of Quince's wolf better. It was ironic, in this way, how the two seemed to always want what the other had. Even as children, the two had fought over toys and clothes. Their excitement dimmed, and the two relaxed comfortably in the chill of the night as canines, laying down in the centre of that wheat field.

"Tomorrow," Quince said, glancing at Adolpha's muzzle, "I intend on meeting with Mayor Kelo."

"For what purpose?"

"Merely to announce our arrival home. I am certain he had heard by now, but I know that his busy schedule will not allow him to greet us a fair welcome. He will be happy to see us."

Adolpha glanced away, "How can you be so certain? We left against his will."

"His will was not against us leaving," Quince said, unafraid, "His will was against us never coming back." Adolpha turned back to Quince, eyes wide and affectionate. She wished that she had Quince's mighty confidence, but knew that it could never be so, for Adolpha was far too terrible and far too hurt. Quince continued, "Either way, Adolpha, I would like it if you would join me. The others are, as well. Danica and Ajax needed to see Mayor Kelo for Danica's reunion."

"Swell," Adolpha said, giving a small smile, little glinting fangs showing from her upper lip, her ears flat against the back of her head. She almost considered inviting Quince to her expected tea with May, having known that Quince was interested in seeing her once again. Though, the thought quickly subsided, as Adolpha wanted personal time with her daughter. She ached to think of her in that community home. 

"I thought that you'd might want to stay tonight, and then we could greet him tomorrow. I knew that you were always Mayor Kelo's favourite, Adolpha, and I think that he may just be happy to see you," Quince's voice rang of sarcasm. 

Adolpha chuckled, wrinkling back her nose, showing teeth, "Oh, may he?"

"Maybe... Maybe not!"

With a suddenness, Adolpha leapt upon Quince with a bark, rainwater flying from the back of her pelt like a thousand tiny sparks, glinting white beneath the moon. Quince yelped again, growling playfully as Adolpha wrestled her onto her back and on the muddy ground. 

Quince whined, "Adolpha, you will get my fur covered in mud!"

"That is the goal!" 

"Oh, you are a true form of evil, my friend!" They batted with loose paws and ferocious growls, bared fangs clinking against fangs like swords. Quince used her hind legs to her advantage, giving Adolpha a light blow to the stomach with a kick, knocking her off and into the dark mud herself with a splatter.

The red wolf laughed, tail waving across the ground, "Oh, now you've done it!" Her pelt was caked in black mud, and she promptly shook it out with a splatter. Some mud droplets flecked upon Quince's face, and she wrinkled her nose with a look of disgust. "You earned that," Adolpha said.

"We are in need of quite a bath, aren't we?" Quince said, chuckling, admiring the brown wet that streaked down her sides and up her dirty paws.

"Well, quite," Adolpha said, eyeing her. A moment of silence, gleaming blue eyes locked, and both knew exactly what the other was thinking.

"Race you to the river!" Quince said, popping up to her feet and then taking off in a dark flurry through the tan brush.

"You had a head start!" Adolpha shouted, quickly jumping to race after her. Her legs pumped in a blur, her entire body moving roundly with every long bound, fur being wavered by the wind, which seemed furious as she sprinted. Her paws met the wet soil in fast, squelching steps, sinking into the ground about half an inch in every weight, and then kicking up droplets of brown in a scatter behind. Between the mud below and the misting rain overhead, Adolpha and Quince were equal part wet and dirty by the same they had gotten to the river. 

The river ran powerfully and beautifully, glinting beneath the moon's mist, alongside the town of River's Bed. This river was a staple mark for the town, providing them with fresh, clean water for crops and homes, and acting as a safety barrier on the edge of the town's property. The river was downhill quite some, and through a sparse forest's bit. The mossy ground grew slicker and muddier as the two ran. Quince was the first to arrive at the roaring shore of the dark river, not bothering to stop, and instead skidding across the slick, thick mud and bounding right into the water. This area of the river, close to the farmer's crop fields, was a shallow spot used for swimming and picking buckets of water for crops. For a Lycanthrope, the water would reach about waist high. For a wolf, the water nearly went over their shoulders, and it was a lucky thing that Adolpha and Quince were adept swimmers. And swim they did so, and with great joy. Adolpha followed Quince, flying through the air and then crashing down into the water with a thunderous splash, white foam spewing from where she fell. The river coursed around them and through them, bitterly cold and rushing, but refreshing and full of youthful play all the same. 

"I won!" Quince said, splashing water at Adolpha's face with a paw, which was already flattened and dripping with wet. 

Adolpha kicked to her in the water, her claws  pushing along the rocky floor of the river, "No fair!"

"You're no fair," Quince mocked, and Adolpha leapt upon her, tumbling her beneath the murky water. They kicked up mud and stones beneath it as they tussled breathlessly. Soon, Quince pulled her head up, breaking the surface of the water with a popping splatter, and growling at Adolpha, who laughed, proud of her attack. The two jested, making jokes, poking fun, and roughhousing in the cold waves for quite a while longer; and the moon slowly drifted lower in the sky, hidden partially behind swirling white clouds. Soon, though, their exhaustion grew immense, and Adolpha and Quince pulled their wolf bodies from the river in a wet-dog smelling, dripping mess, panting both. Their hair was flat and snug to their bodies, wirier than before, and suddenly the gentle wind felt more whipping and freezing with the bitter cold biting through their hides and soaked pelts. 

Teeth chattering, her breath in cloudy billows, Adolpha spoke, "Perhaps it is time to retire for the night, if you so want to."

"Oh, I agree," Quince chattered right back, body trembling with winter's cold. On four legs, the two slowly walked back through the field and into town, their feet becoming caked in cool mud once again. In a slow trot, they quietly walked with their heads low and ears alert, searching for any sign of anyone out and about, though both girls knew that nobody would be on that cold night. Eventually, even through the bitter misting cold, paws and muzzles and ears all numb, the two found themselves at Quince's cottage and front doorstep. Quince used her wolf  maw to twist the door's silver handle and then her nose to push it open. From inside poured a warm, golden light, emitting from a softly crackling fire. Eagerly, Quince and Adolpha pushed from the icy cold blue night and into the orange warmth of the home, fighting every urge to shake out their wet pelts and coat the living room in fishy creek water. 

"If we run and boil the water at this hour, we will surely wake your folk," Adolpha whispered, eyes wide with concern. She did a small tappy dance as she stood on the carpet, her feet slowly warming from their numbness, and instead filling with the sensation of pins and needles. 

Quince nodded thoughfully, staring away for a moment, but then returning her face to Adolpha's with a brightened composure, "Nobody is resting at your house, are they, Adolpha? And you've running water straight from the pipes, as well."

"Well, yes..."

"Then what is it we're waiting for? I'm frozen solid, just about, and in desperate need of a hot bath!" Adolpha could not stop the smile that crept to her wolf's snout. And so, the two quietly left Quince's warm and cosy home, opting for the cold and barren of Adolpha's. Adolpha was suddenly feeling nervous, heart quivering, as the two wolves clicked Quince's door shut and began a hasty trot to her own abode. Adolpha was rightly embarrassed of the emptiness of her home. It was only a short jog to it. Adolpha pulled herself up along her stone staircases, which were slick and shiny with rain, nearly slipping about a dozen times. Quince helped her along the way from behind, noticing a strong limp in Adolpha's foreleg that hadn't been there before. In fact, as they pulled themselves up the stone stairs of Adolpha's rolling and grassy front yard, the moon setting in the navy sky overhead, Quince could see Adolpha's condition quickly worsen. At first, as they trotted along the road to the front of Adolpha's yard, Adolpha had experienced a gentle limp. As they began climbing stairs, it worsened until she kept that leg from touching the ground at all, holding it close to her damp chest. 

Finally, after what had felt like hours in the bitterness of the wet, blue cold, Adolpha and Quince arrived at that large cottage atop the grassy terrace. Adolpha used her teeth to pull the knob, this time, and the wooden door opened with a creak. Quince walked in first, thanking Adolpha for allowing her to, and then they shut the door behind them. And suddenly, they were plunged into darkness. 

"You've no fire going," Quince observed in the cold pitch of the dark. 

"No, I've not." Silence. Oh, the silence in the vast emptiness of Adolpha's barren cottage was immense.

Quince chuckled, breaking the terrible quiet, "Best get it started, then." There, she stood upright once again on two legs, bare, and Adolpha shortly followed. Adolpha first made her way to the kitchen, tossing several logs from a pile into her stove for heating, striking a match from the cupboard to light them. The stack of logs beside her front door had dwindled, and she made a mental note to replenish the pile in the morning.

"You may borrow some of my clothes," Adolpha told Quince, "From my room down the hall."

"I know where your room is," Quince snorted back, walking down the hall with heavy footsteps. 

"Attitude, attitude," Adolpha said, chuckling. She took a large steel pan from an upper cabinet and then placed it in the sink, beneath the faucet. Once filled, she placed it on the cast iron surface of her stove and allowed it to heat to a simmer. As the water heated, Adolpha carried the hot pan to her spacious bath room down the hall, pouring it into a brass tub. Then, she returned to the kitchen and repeated the motions. Quince was silent in her bedroom, and Adolpha assumed that she must still have been picking out clothes to wear for the night. Adolpha made several more trips with steaming water, lighting candles in the bath room, giving it a warm glow. The steam from the heated bath filled the air, and all was warm and well again. Although, Adolpha's toes were quite cold, and she wiggled them against the cold hardwood floor. Thinking suddenly of clothes, Adolpha left the water in the tub to steam and made her way back down the short hall and to her suite, where she found Quince dozing on her bed in a pale nightgown, draped in the night's dark, no candles having been lit.

Adolpha considered waking her, but knowing that the night was growing long and that a full day awaited them tomorrow, she decided otherwise. Instead, Adolpha allowed herself the luxurious hot bath that she had drawn; although, she felt immense guilt of it. 

She stepped in and then laid in the steaming water, sighing blissfully as it covered her to her shoulders, lapping gently from her movement. Her toes no longer felt cold; instead, her entire body was warmed quickly, and a bit of sweat formed at her hairline. Her orange curls, once bouncy and coiled, were now long, wiry strands, sticking to her skin with wet. Adolpha soaked for a long while, and then rinsed her hair, tipping her head, and scrubbed her skin with sweet-scented soap in the warm water. After quite some time, the water grew from hot to lukewarm, and Adolpha decided to retire for the night.

She stood, water rolling down her legs, pulling a plug to drain the tub, listening as the water flowed back underground with a hollow noise. Taking a towel from the restroom's counter top, which looked quite similiar to the counters in the kitchen, Adolpha dried her skin and hair. She left the towel on the floor of the restroom, reminding herself absently to collect it for wash in the basin in the kitchen. Then, she wandered to her bedroom, careful so as not to wake Quince's soundly sleeping form. Though Adolpha's footsteps drug with a heavy sleepiness, she kept herself awake long enough to dress in a nightgown and then retire to a spare room's twin bed, laying down on it with an exhausted heave. For the first time in quite a while, she felt warm both inside and out, and peaceful rest came easily to her that night.