No true Life is in stasis; No true Peace is found in time paused; No true Healing is brought by forgetting. Why then, do you waver? — Epigraph from Those Who Guard the Way.

Aulka stares, mouth open, frozen into a sculpture of ice. How? How—can it—no, that—Kaone?

Kaone nods, smile almost sad as he steps around Maikai and stops at her side, amber eyes the only part of him that doesn't ripple with an internal current. His cape flutters, made out of the same golden tears that he and the pool is made out of, and he seems to glow. I promised you I'm going to live, he says. And I keep my promises.

He is so close, enough that with a single step and a stretch, she could touch her nose to his cheek, but she doesn't dare. Doesn't quite believe he will stay solid if she does. A tide shudders in her chest, a serstretch hovering on the horizon, not yet daring to rise but straining to all the same. How... Are you...are you Glass?

With a glance down at his paws, which fade directly into the surface of the pond, then up again at her, he shakes his head. I am merely reforming—Maikai called me back before I could get eaten and it takes a little while for me to fully form again.

Reforming? She tilts her head, flicking her eyes across his golden form, so unlike his black coat, finding only a storm of confused feathers in her thoughts rather than understanding.

Kaone grimaces and sits, settling himself facing her. Let me start from the beginning. He takes a breath, seems to hesitate, and starts. Once there was a Shard named Maikai. As a pup, he loved the legends of Shards before him, those who stood in the gap when it counted, those who felled great beasts and saved many packs, and were kind to all who they did meet. He loved the heroes, and dreamed of being one himself.

He half smiles, lifting his head and fluttering his tail tip once. But you see, his Shard was to make Dreams reality, so he split a part of himself off—a part that would only exist in Dreams—and made that part a Hero: me.

The storm of feathers quiets in her mind, freezing in place as if time itself held its breath, and a shiver ripples down her spine, skin tingling. Slowly, one by one, the feathers in her mind starts to drift down and she works to set them in order.

Maikai had never told her how his shard worked, and it is only from the other wolves of Tatalune did she learn it was to make Dreams reality. Anything could be possible in Dreams. Anything...even like creating a wolf? You meant that you... she licks her jowls, ...are created by Maikai?

Kaone shakes his head with a quick flick. I mean that I am Maikai. Lifting a paw, he brushes the top of Maikai's head, leaving behind a smear of shimmering gold. He and I are one and the same—a piece of the whole, if you will.

Aulka stares at the smear of gold on Maikai's fur, how it glows faintly, how it flows, how it slowly seeps into his fur and disappears, and the last of the feathers fall into place. Kaone is Maikai. All that time, and it was Maikai who was quick to smile, who treated her with kindness no matter how her grief showed, who showed her the world was beautiful, who ate fruit with her in an orchard, who fought to protect her from the cruelty of Coren, who sacrificed a part of himself for her.

All that time, it was Maikai who asked her to come save him.

Why, she says slowly, for she feels as if she is swimming through whines and whimpers that are not sadness, not betrayal, not confusion, but something else, did you never tell me?

The question makes Kaone's ears droop and he looks away. I am two parts but one wolf and...the other wolves do not take kindly to that. I thought that perhaps it might be easier to believe Maikai and I are friends rather than part of a whole. And by the time we were traveling, I enjoyed your company and...

Shaking his head, he licks his nose. Perhaps it is selfish of me, but I did not want your opinion of me to change. I should have told you sooner.

Something inside of her twists. What would she have done if he had told her sooner? If she had known she was traveling with Maikai—a part of him... The tide of whines and whimpers rises and she stands, takes a step, then another, and tucks her head under his chin. You are still my friend no...no matter who, or what part, of you are. She presses her face into his warm, almost wet skin, and closes her eyes.

Kaone inhales, not sharp with surprise, but unsteady. It is a beat before he exhales slowly and rests his chin on the back of her neck, accepting the hug. Thank you, Aulka. That...that means more to me than you know.

She smiles despite the whines lining her teeth and clogging her nose, and it is a long moment before either of them pull away. When they part, she sits back down, carefully not licking the gold off her muzzle, shakiness still fluttering under her skin and all around in her limbs. Despite it, her heart throbs less in her chest and the hollow despair is only a residue at the back of her throat. Still there, but bearable.

There's a silence between them, not quite comfortable, but patient as both of them gather themselves. Aulka speaks first, question coming tentatively. So...Maikai—you—still need healing?

Kaone's gaze slides to Maikai's—his?—form and winces, licking his nose again and curling his tail around his paws. Yes, but there's something you should know before that.

Something more? What else could there be besides her friend is alive but not who she thought he was, and also a part of Maikai but separate? But in the way Kaone shifts his weight from forepaw to the forepaw, the flowing shape of his form seems to swirl and cascade just a bit faster, she can see it is important.

She nods and, reluctantly, he continues. In order to heal me completely, you must wake me up.

Time itself stops, and for a moment, it is just her heart thudding against her ribs, uncomprehending, unknowing...then it hits. Lightning stabs through her veins and her heart stutters with half frantic flops. But that would put us back in the real world where the Coren wage war! Scorched forest, smoke, and drying blood flash across her mind, fill her nose, in snatches and it is all she can do to stay still and keep them inside. Are—are we not more safe here?

Something dark, understanding, flashes in Kaone's eyes and he lowers his voice to a gentle yet firm rumble. Maikai—I never meant the Dream to be forever. It can't be forever. No true time passes in my Dreams, thus Tatalune lives in stasis, and that is no true life.

The forest, her forest, burned when the Coren came. Raging fire with Coren teeth, Coren bodies, Coren horrible screams. Her own scream wedges itself in her throat and it takes several heartbeats to fight it back down. But it is life. Is not some life, any life, better than that?

Kaone catches her gaze and holds it, swiveling his ears forward and leaning towards her. I must wake, Aulka. What I told you is true: while no true time passes here, my true body lies in the waking world and I am dying. I cannot eat or drink, cannot protect myself from the elements or Coren or anything that comes along. It is here where the authority falters in his voice and it quavers at the edges. And if I die, all of you, the whole pack, will die with me.

Aulka averts her gaze, mind a flurry of wings and screeching cries of no-no-no, and she scrambles in the middle of it all for something, anything to hold between him and waking up. What about the Challenge? If you wake, would we not have to fight them as everyone watches?

No. They think they have full control of the Dream, but I am the Dreamer. His lip curls, showing a sliver of white fangs. They exist in a world I created and once I am awake, they will cease from existence. That is partly why you must wake me: to finish the Challenge.

Hot breaths fill her mouth clamped tight with gritted teeth, fire burning under her fur, fighting in her ribcage, and filling her with thick, acrid smoke. If he wakes, then they return to that world of scorched pine, of withered, charred tundra, of the scents of death and smoke and charcoal remains of life. How can they go back? How can they face their homes destroyed, their territory ravaged, with nothing left to sustain them?

But just as quickly the fire came to her chest, it burns itself out in a blaze of sparks and hopeless cinders, leaving behind truth in gritty ash, scorched skin, and a stench of wrongness. I cannot bear to lose everyone again, she whispers. I can't face those wretched Coren. It's too much.

Kaone closes the gap between them again, tucking his chin over her shoulder and leaning his warm, almost wet weight against her, firm and comforting. He holds her there for an insect's breath, two. If you wake me, I promise you, we will live.

I'll stand by your side and face everything with you, no matter what transpires. I'll even convince the Akenwul to move the pack to Wolfhold where there will be hundreds of Shards to protect us. Pulling back just enough to meet her eyes, he whuffs out a small breath, voice firm and solid. You will never be alone, the one of two survivors, again, not as long as I live.

Gently, he presses his nose to the top of her head. I promise we'll live, Aulka. Live good lives. Lives where we can heal.

Can you really promise that? She holds a bubble of glass between her teeth, cool, fragile, all too easy to crush, but she doesn't. She holds it, and wants it, wants it to be true.

Within everything in my power, yes.

The bubble sinks to her chest, hovering just over her ribs, and in its smooth, reflective surface, she sees the life he describes. What would it be like to have a friend again? One so kind and thoughtful as Kaone-Maikai? Would it be worth living again, true living without stasis, with each day changing the last? Would facing the world, the Coren, the Scortchedness of her past be worth seeing pups grow, hear Eldu tell stories, move on to safer territories?

Would letting life move on as it should be worth the risk of losing her new pack to Coren or hunger or sickness or pain?

It is almost too big to answer. So big she falls to the other side. Can she condemn them to fade away? Can she sit here and not heal Maikai? Can she choose between hiding from the world, from Coren and death and grief, too afraid and broken and hurting to face it all again, and her friends, her new pack, her mother?

Her gaze slides past the golden waterfalls and the pond they sit on to the rest of the Dream below. The edges of the mountain peak line the horizon, washed in brilliant colors as ser stretches his long, fiery form across the sky like a morning yawn. Streaks of clouds catch the undersides of his gaze, turning fire-red and healthy-pink, and the tiny dot of black marks the lazy glide of a bird.

It is beautiful, splendid, magnificent, and not unlike the real serstretches she remembers watching in the waking world. Perhaps, even, this one is not quite as awe-striking. Perhaps, because it is only a reflection, an interpretation, a Dream.

Something slides into place, like a broken bone set, and deep inside her, like the certainty there is a bottom to a dark lake, she has her answer. All this time she has carried the death of her pack in her pelt like thick, painful mats. All this time she has felt, she has grieved, she has held herself away where it couldn't hurt as much. All this time she was hurting, and no time, no stasis, would make it stop.

And...she is tired of carrying so many tiny, glass wolf sculptures hanging off her fur, tired of lingering in absence alone, tired of her pelt itching with suspended time.

Something must change, and to change, she must live. And that is not so undesirable because she wants to live. She wants to live a life outside of stasis, to see Umble have her pups and the other two pups grow into healthy wolves. She wants to grow older with Owna and learn more from her, wants to become deeper friends with Kaone-Maikai, wants to hold a burial for her pack, wants to say goodbye and hello and look up at the stars for a little longer.

She wants to live and move on. Be happy again. Live a good, long life with the time she still has before going to her pack in the stars. And to live, she—Maikai—must wake up.

With a deep breath, she gathers all the wispy strands, the charcoal bits, the scorched and tender parts of herself and nestles them into a pile just below her heart. Slowly, she stands and pulls away, the warmth from the golden residue left behind from Kaone's touch thrumming against her fur.

With bubbles of tears in her throat, she dips her head to him. I'll always heal you, Kaone, Maikai. You're my friend.

Then she leans down, presses her nose into Maikai's cheek fluff to spread her healing, and breathes, Wake up.