Toivo felt as if he'd awoken from a long dream.

A pleasant dream, one that left traces of a smile on his snout and a warm feeling in his chest. One that kept him dazed enough so not to leave it completely behind, if only so he could try in vain to continue the dream's path with an alert mind.

Yet the more he recalled the dream, the more he realised how much of a nightmare it had truly been.

He remembered the sudden urge, the rush of energy, the disconnect from anything real. Then tendrils of shadow, impossible to see but so easy to feel, had ripped from his chest. It was not his own joy he felt, but the joy of that shadow as it wound its way around Maynard, curling tighter, cutting a slow path to his heart.

He remembered its whisper of how deserved the pain had been. It echoed still with longer-passed memories, ones of his father alight with flame, hissing words of failure. How every droplet of burning terror, pure enough to sear away all will to live, was simple returning of a favour.

Toivo's eyes, cloaked in a clinging darkness, clenched more tightly closed. A nightmare, but a nightmare he had wished to dream.

"Toivo."

He twisted away from the voice. It too was an echo from his dream, he was sure of it. A voice akin to the shadow, one that urged on the pain's progression. One he remembered listening to. He didn't want to listen again.

"Toivo, get up."

Was he not already up? He could feel the strain in his muscles of standing, his head's upward curve a tight knot in his neck. No, perhaps not, for he could also feel something pressing hard against his chest, something that might have been the earth.

"For Luna's sake, what is wrong with you?"

Another hard press met his flank, along with a distant sting. He rocked sideways under its force. It left a lingering sensation, one that ached a little with a faint pain.

Pain. A leak of a voice, dregs of a far more powerful force, pricked from within. Retaliate.

He had no choice but to listen. Unlike the other voice, it was not far away enough to ignore. The voice's weak wisp sank away and left him, and a moment later, a wolf from far away yelped in an equal pain to his own.

"Forget it," the yelp's owner growled a few moments later. "Leave him here. He's served his purpose."

"Jaser!"

Toivo flinched. A new voice, one from outside of his dream. He could trust this voice, he was sure. It didn't stand with the shadow.

"Jaser," the second voice called again. "Why are... Is that Toivo?"

With the final word, he felt them draw closer. A paw touched his flank, though this one did not bring pain. It brought something a little softer, and he welcomed it.

"Toivo, come on. Wake up."

The second voice felt a little less distant now. A little more real. The shadow tugged him back, but it wasn't strong enough to hold him anymore. He reached for reality.

"Wake up, you idiot!"

Toivo's eyes snapped open. He gasped, air reaching his tongue. His throat rasped as if it had not felt the air in ages. Blinking, he tried to shape the world from blocks of colour. All he saw at first was a black snout, touched with silver. Eyes brushed with a pinkish shade and sparked with concern shone just above.

"Harisah." The word was more of a breath than anything solidly built, but it was there. He wasn't dreaming anymore.

As the forest backdrop behind Harisah fell into place, he wondered whether he'd ever been dreaming at all. His memory rose up to answer the question and remind him that he didn't have to wonder.

None of it had been a dream, or a nightmare. The pain, the delight, the shadow... it was all real.

"Come on," Jaser's voice snapped from further away. "We need to get out of here."

"You go," Harisah called, twisting her head backwards. "We'll catch up." She turned back to Toivo, leaning closer. He realised with a jolt that their snouts were barely a stick's breadth from touching. "Can you stand?"

Toivo nodded, then realised his lie moments later. The strain in his paws hadn't been dreamed up, either. Every one of his muscles felt pulled taught, as if he were caught in a constant run despite how still he lay on the ground. Still, Harisah's waiting gaze pressed into him, and so he planted his paws on the ground and did his best to push upwards. He felt pathetic, trembling away, barely able to look her in the eyes.

It was a stark contrast to how powerful he'd felt only minutes before.

Just as his paws started to straighten, he took a shallow breath, and the world was spinning again. He felt his paws give way, but something else rushed in to keep him upright. Harisah's flank, warm at his side, thawing the ice in his veins.

Her touch felt so real, so far from the living nightmare still replaying in the back of his mind, and somehow that reality was enough for a little of his strength to seep back into his muscles. He clung to it, pushing away the memories of searing power, focused only on Harisah beside him.

He took a tentative step, her still supporting him. Then another.

Maynard's scream cut through his balance, and for a moment he stumbled, but a flashed glance in Harisah's direction was enough to force it away. Inhaling deeply, he fought the dizzy wave that followed. They continued, gradually falling into a walking pace. A slow walk, but it was movement.

"So, what happened?" Harisah asked, after a minute tight with silence had followed. Relief settled in Toivo's chest. He could focus on her voice.

A bitter taste rose to counter that relief, tainted with the fear of having to recount the night's events. But he swallowed it. He could manage this. Perhaps it would help line up his tangled thoughts.

Harisah's eyes glided over him as he hesitated. "You don't look injured," she added, her tone edged with confusion, and maybe just a little skepticism at how weak he seemed. He didn't blame her. He wasn't entirely sure what was wrong himself.

"Nothing bad," he said - a truth, despite the disbelief in Harisah's gaze. Nothing bad in the sense he meant, the sense of a mission going badly for the Shadewylves. All had gone just to Jaser's plans. "We did the mission. We... we fought the Wylfire, and all that. Just not in quite the way I expected." He laughed, wincing as the sound rasped in his dry throat.

Harisah fixed him with a stare. "So what happened?"

"Alright, I'm getting there." He felt her push for an increase in speed, and went with her, finding his paws held out. "You see... my father was there."

She controlled her surprise rather well. Or perhaps she hadn't been as surprised as him in the first place. After all, he should have expected such an occurance - this was his old home. With another steadied breath, he continued.

"Jaser told me to use my power, and so I did. But it didn't stop with him. It just kept coming. The other Flamewylves arrived, and I used it on them too. I... I don't remember much else." His head dropped. "I think we ran away, in the end, and the next thing I remember is waking up where you found me."

When he met her eyes, they were just as comforting as he'd hoped. He leaned into her side, enjoying the way her warmth embraced him.

With a chuckle, she pushed him away, the brief sympathy in her eyes sparking with amusement. "So you're just a little drained of power." She nudged him away. "Weakling."

Though he'd heard that word said before, in a way that speared his heart, there was something different about her joking tone. Something that made him able to laugh with her, and shake away anything else that came with it.

"Seriously, though," she added as they fell into step together, "that's pretty cool. You know you just carried a whole mission back there?" She met his gaze, eyes sparkling. "The fact that Jaser even trusted you to do that in the first place is great. You pulling it off... well, I wouldn't be surprised to see you promoted to Captain beside me."

He frowned at her. "You really think so?"

The idea of a promotion seemed so wonderful, just as the sparks in Harisah's eyes suggested, and yet a sick feeling gathered in the pit of his stomach as he ran his mind back over her words. Cool or great weren't quite the words he would have matched with the memories of darkness. The idea that Jaser had given him the allowance to do it - that perhaps all of this had been planned long before it happened - only worsened the feeling.

He felt himself stumble, the world tipping sideways. Even with his power drained away, at least for the time being, it still left its uncomfortable trace.

Harisah had stopped again, head tilted in his direction. He shook off her concern. "I'm fine, really." His tongue caught on the words. Her company, first so welcoming, now deepened his anxiety. He couldn't keep pretending in front of her. And returning with her would only present more wolves to explain himself to.

"You go ahead," he said, pouring as much certainty into the words as he could muster. "You probably want to get back. I'll catch up."

She shook her head almost immediately. "Weakling or not, I want to make sure you're okay."

"I really am okay now. Trust me." His paws shifted. "I just..." Lingering on the edge of the truth, he hesitated. When he spoke again, his words tipped neither way. A truth edged with lies. "I need a little time alone to recover. It being my first mission and all." He tried for a casual shrug.

Her jaw paused, half open, as she scrutinised him. Doing his best to hold her gaze, he stared back her with all the surety he had left. Trust me.

After a long moment, she nodded, though the movement was reluctant. "Alright. Just don't be long." With that, her tail was whipping around and she bounded away into the undergrowth, as if moving fast would chase away any doubts she still held.

Letting loose a slow breath, Toivo watched her go. His paws felt steadier than they had earlier, but still not as stable as he would have liked. But still he pressed them on, curving away from the path Harisah had followed, padding eastwards a route he would have known even without the moon to light his way.

When alone, the night could easily have felt oppressive. But Toivo had long since stopped letting it press down on him that way, save his recent dreams. The night had always held a peace to him, as if its chill was a whisper in his ear, reassuring him that all would turn out as it should.

Tonight, that peace felt fragile, but if he let his shoulders relax and his head tilt back, he could still sense that whisper. A breeze rippled through the leaves and swept his fur, combing away the clinging darkness. In the night, what he was seemed unclear, obscured by its dark veil. He could be nothing but himself.

Never did he recall making the concious decision to head to the hill. Yet, several minutes later, Toivo found the ground tilting upwards in a slope beneath him, growing steeper. He focused on the stars ahead, using their silver lights to maintain his balance.

The trees became sparse. He wound around them, digging his claws into the earth to push himself up. Soon, he would be at the top. Everything was always alright when he reached the top.

Countless times, he'd climbed this hill alone, or beside Lexi, or even with Calder on occasion. Sometimes it was merely to play. But he could remember so many times he'd made this climb with heavy thoughts pricking at him, weighing him down, making it hard to escape the words that chased him.

It had become his automatic response, he realised, to when anyone hurt him. Because coming here, one way or another, cured him of that hurt, if only for a brief time. It was comfort. It was how he imagined Lexi felt about her home.

This time was different. This time, it was him who had caused the hurt.

The pain that twisted inside of him was not his own. It was his punishment for letting his power run so freely.

He paused, glancing down at his paws. When he'd finished his training with Montasir, he'd told himself he had control. He realised now that it had been a lie. It was the shadow that was in control, and though he fought it, every time it was a losing battle. Every time he had only regret to counter an action already committed.

He was so drawn into himself that he didn't hear the noise that cut through the peace of the hill, not until they were close enough to make him flinch. Diving behind the closest tree - which thankfully was only a couple steps away - he pressed his flank against its trunk, ears pricked to catch the sound.

Two wolves were fighting. From recent experience, Toivo knew all too well the scratch of claws, the yelp of inflicted wounds, the snarls of fury-driven battle. A pair of fangs snapping together made him wince.

Suddenly, a louder yelp than usual sliced the air, followed by a decisive thump. A growl of words, ones he couldn't make out at this distance. Curiousity fuelling his steps, Toivo peeked his snout out from behind the tree, scanning for another to dart behind closer to the wolves ahead.

Approaching pawsteps sounded. Toivo yanked himself back and crouched low behind the tree as a wolf ran past. Another Shadewylf, his eyes made out, one he couldn't yet put a name to. He held his breath as they passed, unsure of how someone would react if they found him creeping around rather than attacking or heading back as everyone else would be doing. But the wolf seemed more concerned with fleeing, and so didn't even glance his way as they sped down the slope.

Once he was certain he was mostly alone again, Toivo scampered to the next closest tree, ears stretched to catch the voices. In just a few steps, they became audible enough.

"... Tell me you caught her." A tight voice, female, one that sparked recognition. He crossed the final distance to the tree, listening closer.

There was a heavy pause. "I didn't," another female voice said eventually, also strained. He frowned, and something within him clicked. This was Angel, the Airewylf Twilytra. "She was already gone."

Who is gone? Toivo could barely breathe. His pulse sped up a little, feeding off the panic that tainted the voices.

A sob from one of the wolves sliced his thoughts. He dug his claws into the dirt, a new fear overtaking him. They weren't talking of another Twilytra member, were they? Fiammetta? Determined, fierce Thea?

"I couldn't stop her." The first voice again, edged by what sounded like the falling of tears. "She ran all the way here... To think she came here." A faint laugh broke through the heavy sorrow, sad even in its joy. "She used to spend hours up here, you know, with that Peltless."

Toivo's heart stopped.

"She was so brave, you know," Angel said, voice softer than he'd ever heard. Her breath hitched. "I'm Angel, by the way. One of the--"

"Loners, I know. I'm Storm."

Toivo could barely breathe through the rapidly-forming knot in his throat. No, of course not. They couldn't be talking about her. Not her.

The world gave another of its dizzying pirouettes, as if to defy his denial. He collapsed, and he didn't care if they could hear.

"Everything else alright?" Storm was fighting for her words now, or perhaps he was hearing the battle he fought to keep his thoughts from muffling the sound. "Any more battles in which I can take out my anger?" Another dry chuckle.

A moment of silence followed, then a few scraps of hushed words he could no longer make out. They sounded comforting enough. Then she heard them rise, and tred his way. Toivo had just enough concious thought left to drag himself a pace around the tree to hide himself from view.

They paused much closer, perhaps even a few steps from his tree. "It's funny." Storm's voice, a little stronger. It seemed whatever Angel had whispered had helped. "She used to tell me these stories she and her friend read together. Hero stories. She wanted to be like them." The air swished with the sound of a gesturing tail. "The best of the heroes... they never survived to the end of the story."

They padded away, letting the words hang in the air to fill Toivo with their echoes.

It was several minutes before he found the energy to climb to his paws and finish the journey to the hill's summit. It was empty now. Too empty. The night seemed darker than usual, sapped of the beauty of its silver light.

His gaze swept the hill. Claws marked the earth in deep ridges, clear signs of the battle that had taken place here. So different to the soft paws that used to tred the grass. As his night vision adjusted further, he could make out traces of blood, too - small droplets of life left behind.

Storm's words rang in his mind. Tell me you caught her.

He tracked one such set of marks, telling of a fierce struggle. They wound in fragments towards the edge. Toivo felt his stomach clench as his paws shifted closer towards the open void, the drop to the valley, but he forced himself to keep moving. The dizziness returned in waves. He dug his claws into the trenches already tearing the dirt, determined to do this. It was worth it, for her.

One final step, and he was there, his claws one slip away from a fall. Swallowing hard, clinging onto the focus of his vision, he followed the clawed-out marks right to the edge, where they rounded the last of the grass tufts and tumbled downwards.

His night vision lit the juts of rock, the only things to stand out from the cascading earth that led towards the ground. The valley loomed below, a gaping toothless maw.

I didn't. She was already gone.

It hit him all at once. Whether it was the vertigo, or the lack of power within him, or simply the crash of reality, it made him stagger back all the same. He fell, several steps from that edge, at the same time the first tear forced its way out.

The best of the heroes never survive to the end of the story.

Another battle waged on the hilltop, though this time it was not one that drew blood or tore flesh. Toivo's claws ripped through the earth, destroying it, no longer caring for the way it marred a place he'd once loved so much. Again and again, he hissed to himself, the sound never emerging, yet he heard the word all the same. It vibrated through every fibre of his being.

No.

It was a lie.

To the earth, he growled that there had to be someone else. He was being stupid. Any wolf could have died up here. Any wolf with a Peltless friend, who loved stories as much as her, who found pleasure in this hilltop.

Except that couldn't be true. The hill had been theirs, and theirs alone.

To the sky, he told that perhaps he'd misinterpreted the entire thing. Angel and Storm weren't talking about a death, but something else. Lexi had run away. She'd been taken, imprisoned. Something bad, but something fixable, something reversable.

Yet the tone in Storm's voice had been unmistakable. The one that spoke of something that could not be changed.

His claws stopped moving. He stared at the scored ground, the dirt stirred and displaced. He heard himself breathing hard, failing to fight back the burn of tears, but his insides were numbed.

"No," he whispered. But he didn't believe it.

Lexi was gone, and there was nothing he could do.

For a long time, he simply remained that way. Propped up on his forepaws, staring down at the ground, the desperation in his gasps slowly ebbing away. His tears grew silent. Somehow, the noiseless trails they traced down the sides of his snout hurt more than those mixed with aching sobs.

When feathers first settled on his back, he barely noticed. It was simply another trick of his imagination, another sensation created by the wind. Perhaps a phantom of an embrace torn from the past that he could no longer have.

It was only when the sensation remained that it began to feel more real. He felt the soft tingle of the feathers caught by the breeze, tracing gentle lines through his fur. On the ground, he noticed a faint shadow, a touch darker than anything lit by the moon, though pricks of light had still slipped through in places. A wing's outline was traced on the disturbed earth. A wing was now resting on his back.

Slowly, Toivo lifted his head, his neck stiff. He turned to his left, where the wing's silhouette merged with a larger shape.

Eyes met him, fixed on him with an emotion difficult to read. The moonlight caught the blue tint that resided within them. A blue that mirrored his own eyes.

He swallowed. Of all the snatched glances, all the halted attempts to draw nearer, Crow had chosen this moment to finally approach.

Toivo's eyes narrowed. He didn't have the heart to be angry, or curious, or even faintly welcome for the company. It wasn't the company he wanted. He flinched backwards, ducking away from Crow's winged embrace, then immediately fell still as the world spun in response to his rapid movement.

Crow didn't follow him. He merely turned a steady circle until they faced each other once more. Flinching away from the blue gaze was impossible; instead Toivo held it, using it to right himself.

A few seconds slipped away before he managed to straighten his thoughts, and then a further time as he gathered the energy to speak. "What are you doing here?" The words seemed to stick together, clogged with the remainders of his tears.

Crow took a step forward. Toivo mirrored the action, moving backwards. Ducking his head, Crow didn't move any further forward, though his wing twitched upwards. A subtle invite to return to its folds, a form of comfort he wished to offer. That he had come here to give.

Claws digging into the soil, Toivo stayed where he was. He didn't want comfort. Not from a mysterious Airewylf who hadn't said a word to him yet.

"Just..." He flicked his tongue across his fangs, biting gently, using the sting of pain to ground himself. "Just leave me alone."

There was a slight shake to Crow's head, though it could well have simply been a bend of the wind. Still, decline or not, he didn't lift his wings or shift his paws.

"Leave me alone!" His words were a growl now. A feeble growl, but they were enough of a contrast to his former demeanor to force a flinch from Crow. Yet still the Airewylf was unmoving, still he was silent. Toivo flashed his fangs. "At least say something." He was beginning to wonder whether Crow could speak at all.

A pause sat heavily between them. Crow lifted his head, hesitated, then parted his jaw. "I know what it is to lose someone."

Now it was Toivo's turn to deliver silence. His paws tensed, claws sifting the dirt.

"It is a burden I know all too well. It crushes the life from you the first time you feel its weight." Crow's eyes were soft, the light within them dulled with something between sadness and sympathy. "You wonder how you will ever be strong enough to keep on going with it on your shoulders."

As if in response, Toivo's shoulders drooped. It was true, and he hated it.

"But you can, and you will." Crow took another step forward. "There are two ways you can go on bearing it. One is by letting that life slip away, and simply losing a part of yourself along with them." He lapsed into a brief silence. His sharp inhale was visible, as if he was steeling himself to carry on.

"And the other?" Toivo prompted. His voice was quiet, too quiet, but it was there.

"The other," Crow said, his own voice dropping, "is to be strong enough to carry on walking. To hold that burden high and let it become a part of who you are." His head dipped, eyes flooded with sadness. "Who you lost isn't around anymore, Toivo. They can't be strong for you. So you have to be strong for them. By doing so, you hold their spirit with you. You do them proud."

Another tear slipped down Toivo's snout as he nodded. Crow was right. Time and time again, Lexi had picked him up when he'd been at his lowest. She'd saved his life again and again, in tiny ways, ways she probably hadn't even noticed.

She was the strongest wolf he'd ever known. It was time he was strong for her, too.

The rest of his tears he pushed back with that single thought. He could do this. He could almost imagine Lexi's soul touching a place within him, her voice whispering directly to his mind, telling him that he could do this. For her, or not at all.

"Thank you..." The words died on his tongue. Crow, only seconds ago stood before him, had vanished into the night. Toivo glanced around, searching for a flash of his black feathers, but he was gone entirely. One string of advice, and then snatched by the darkness.

A short laugh escaped Toivo's throat. "Not one for goodbyes, I see." Crow certainly liked to keep up the intrigue.

Whatever. Crow can keep his mysteries. Right now, he could be more than grateful to the dark-winged Airewylf.

With a small shake of his head, he raised his gaze to the stars. Whether it was his presence on the familiar hilltop, or simply the idea of Lexi guiding the back of his mind, he found himself locking onto Nethropiade almost immediately. He traced the silver stag's antlers, making out Jedrek's star, and then following every shimmering spec throughout the constellation.

One of those stars belonged to Lexi now. That he could be sure of.

With one final nod to the night sky, to where his best friend resided, he turned back to the hill's slope. He didn't quite know where his paws wished to lead him - the Shadewylf camp, his old home, even the vast expanses of forest - but he supposed that he could find out when he got there. In the stories, heroes discovered themselves on the journey, not at the destination.

Every step held an echo of a memory. Though the hill remained empty, he was sure he could see Lexi's golden form winding down the path ahead of him. She always did win their races. When she put the effort in, anyway.

If not quite in the way they had both imagined, he was certain they would face the path ahead together. Whatever it brought.