Amera felt her jaw clench and despite her new relaxed attitude, she now felt an infuriating warmth in her chest that sent her hackles upright.

He'd been smothered.

She could tell so much just from staring at him. He may have been some great worrier, someone of importance, he might have been brave a smart, however, he could not dare say the likes of he had wounds that shaped him. All that shaped him was good food and a proper, warm abode. They shaped most, but wounds were not a sentiment to carry. They were only to weep over and remorse over. To remind you of your past failure. There were many, many failures on her part.

"Do not tell me I misunderstand," she hissed. "You said you saw resilience, did you not? That the likes of myself are resilient?" Because you are wrong," she murmured to him, her tone low and forbearing. "You don't expect me to believe you believe that. Or that any part of you has been deeply altered by your conditions."

Perhaps she was just frustrated that the stranger could not leave her to own, to continue her wanders and eventually get back to her home by the early dawn. It didn't look like that was to happen if he forced her to converse with him. He just seemed to put up with her demanding tones, and she could not imagine why.

Her whole demeanour completely changed when she heard his name. Her previous relaxed composure had reverted to a tense and uncomfortable state.

She'd managed to reduce her memory of the incident where the young brute had maimed her so long ago, but within a moment it'd all flooded back. The fear and pain he'd inflicted on her small frame, the sudden outburst of madness and fury she'd witnessed from what should have been her very best friend. She couldn't help the fury that stormed through her gaze. He'd hurt her. All this was his fault, and he was standing in front of her, telling her not to weep over the past.

She could trace every little mishap to that one moment. The hatred that ran though her in this second seemed overwhelming, and once again she was ridged.

Perhaps she wouldn't be in this state if that hadn't happened. She recalled years ago when she was young, thinking she'd grow to be some magnificent beast, the route she should have been on before she let other packs of youngling get the better of her.

"Very well, in this particular moment, I'm wondering how dare you stand in front of me without so much as a smidgen of remorse," she hissed to him. "I know you recall the incident as well as I do," she added in a bitter growl.

Amera simply growled at the brute, her stance widening as she attempted to let his comments about her. "Do not talk to me about deceit, Bayne," she fae warned, her bright orbs the only thing that spelt danger about her staring directly into his. She looked no longer scared, that childish scarcity replaced with a much more adult sense of aggression and hatred.

"I refuse to argue with you on something as meaningless as the notion of resilience," the fae eventually concluded before taking a simple step forwards and then curling her plumage back around her sides, trying to keep her unease as hidden as she could - albeit, she wasn't doing an amazing job of it.

Amera monitored him for a moment or two, her eyes staring through him. She couldn't comprehend why he so wanted to talk to her. She didn't want to converse with him one bit. The very mention of his name had made her insides churn and her heart crawl into her throat. The sight of his face made her want to flee from her body, and the sound of his steady heartbeat made her despise him even more. She could hear how little he cared about what he'd done to her all those decades ago.

"Remose is not a luxury. It's a curse and for some reason whatever higher power there is had decided you're too worthy for it," the fae growled bitterly, poison-laced through her voice. "Or perhaps I am not worthy of receiving it from you,"

The thought made her body quench with resentment. She hated every moment of this. She groaned when he attempted to lecture her as to what she could and couldn't say to him.

"I'm not on your property," she hissed. "I am not even on the border. You have no power where I'm standing," the fae warned, her ears still pinned back. "I suggest you not leave your precious domain. Oh, how I hope it's all yours," Amera spat to the he in a sarcastic tone. "I hope drawing blood in your embarrassing little outburst gave you the ego you'd need to abandon your good home."

As Amera's dissatisfaction mushroomed, Bayne's calcareous countenance served as constant. He stood there with a serene detachment, reluctant to let her venomous comments evoke any apparent emotion from him. Her resistance reverberated in the air, laden with resent and bitterness, but he denied to participate in a verbal brawl.

He tuned in without flinching as her scathing replies poured over him. Her venom punctured his core, and he knew he earned every bit of it.

The weight of their past together measured against him, yet he sat firm in the face of her wrath.

Amera's unwillingness to consider the prospect of resilience did not surprise him. Knowing the harm that he had caused on her heart and physique, he had anticipated resistance.

But he wasn't about to let her discard the idea with such ease.

"Resilience is not insignificant," Bayne declared discretely, his voice bearing a gentle firmness. "It's the thread that binds us, the force that enables us to endure and rise above our circumstances."

He made a steady stride forward, narrowing the gap but keeping a decent border. His gaze concentrated on hers, a quiet threat coming from it. He refused to back down, unwilling to be consumed by her outrage.

"The indulgence of remorse or the curse of its absence, it makes no variance," Bayne stated, his voice laced with gloom. "I cannot undo what I did to you."

"But I've learnt from my mistakes, and I bear the burden of my acts."

A flash of anguish flickered through his eyes, revealing the simmering guilt underlying his placid veneer. Though he did not apologize, he believed that expressing their common grief could demonstrate some contrition.

Bayne gave an ineffectual, forlorn grin in response to Amera's statement concerning his domain and strength. He recognized her desire to demonstrate her independence, as well as her resistance to recognize her power. But he noticed the futility of their conversation, the pointlessness of their impassioned argument.

"You are correct, Amera," he admitted simply. "You are standing outside of my domain. But the power I wield does not exist exclusively inside the confines of physical space. It is inside me, in my decisions and deeds."

Bayne's eyes warmed for a time as the tension hovered hefty in the air, an unsaid agreement heading between them. The anguish of the same past was imprinted deep into his essence, as were the memories of their past together. However, concentrating on them would only serve to continue the cycle of misery.

"I bear the weight of your hatred, Amera," he responded, his voice softly resigned. "But I cannot to let it consume me for any longer."

With those comments, Bayne rotated gradually, his physique exuding a serene aura of influence and assurance. He strode away from Amera, his head lifted aloft.

"Our destinies have crossed once again," he proceeded, his voice solemn. "But I see now that this confrontation serves neither of us."

Bayne began to move away, with his silhouette dissolving into the horizon. He chose to construct a way forward, one where he could find reconciliation and redemption in the depths of his own existence, leaving beyond the entangled emotions and unpleasant memories.

"I'll visit this area tomorrow, I aspect you here too, with a clearer head, to make amends." his voice resonated as he vanished.

His attempts to brush away her every anger seemed to anger the fae even more. He could not even process her hatred towards him for an incident that had happened years ago. She hoped that he relived the embarrassment he'd caused himself, by injuring a critter smaller than himself. She hoped he was proud of the whole ordeal.

"From where I reside, you do not bare any burden from your hideous being. I hate to imagine what you're like now - what horrific pain you've caused poor mammals and helpless beings such as myself. I'd hate to see the delighted look in your eyes once you've committed such crimes, too."

As far as Amera was concerned, people did not change. If he had done to her what he had when they were young, she had no doubt in her mind that he would still commit such horrendous crimes against the weaker members of the canine tree.

He could say he felt the burning of her anger, the hatred that tore through him, but he could not even imagine the extent of her dissatisfactions. She would have been perfectly at ease with never seeing him again. She did not like him, and she never would. He had humiliated her and scarred her in return for it.

Her rage only continued as he continued to hold his power over her. He did not have to. She knew his strength would be greater than hers. The shameless brute did not have to voice it.

"You are a shameless little beast, are you not?"

The air around them seemed to be still, their tense bodies causing the surrounding air to be frigid. She would not leap at him, or attack, but it seemed that way for a few seconds.

It seemed the two of them had been tied to fate with a red string; only that string had been frayed and torn over time, knotting to keep each other at arm's length. She needed to keep him at arm's length, in fear that she really would try and strike him if she allowed him to close.

"Expect nothing from me. I should not be here," the fae hissed before turning off to melt into the fog that had fallen... the sun was now slowly adorning the horizon... with any luck she'd be welcomed to finish her scout of the territory.

Amera's encephalon filled with negative thoughts and feelings as she fled from the area, the air feeling sticky and uncomforting, though soon thinned back out once she'd paced a few steps from the thick air of the uncomfortable encounter.

She should not stay hung up on something that had happened years ago; however, she could trace every negative aspect of her life back to that very moment.

She had been shunned from her pack that day. Dissed, simply because she had run from a fight with another pack youngling. She had not fought for herself, she simply wept and fled.

Her sneaking off to converse with him likely had not helped her.

She had missed her training that morning to see her friend. She recalled being so excited to see him that day. So thrilled to see his tongue lolling out his mush, and his tail batting against the ground as she neared.

She remembered when his puppy-like scent filled her head as she neared, her own excitement to see her friend increasing with every step. She had just expected to jump and frolic with him. No one would have assumed that day would have ended the way it had.

She, obviously, had to explain why the skin on her throat had been torn. That probably had not helped the war between the clans.

As Amera wandered into camp, her ears lolling back and forth and paws gently hitting the ground, she saw a lanky youngling, in the awkward stages of adulthood and puppyhood.

His teeth were bared at her, getting ready to use her once again as a plaything. To throw the dame around in whatever way he saw fit. However, Amera didn't seem to be in the mood for such antics.

Jovid, the youngster had gone by. Amera was supposed to be caring for the younglings while their parents were out to hunt, however, a good deal of them had decided it was more entertaining to draw blood than sit and behave. She had been around this wolfling since he was but two months old, and yet she was still being thrown about by him.

As he stalked towards her, it was more and more clear that Amera was not in a fit mood to be ragged about. She never fought back... not once. She took it and left, though now, she was stalking straight toward the young wolf, upper lip curled as she dodged a lung towards her, and inturn scolded him with a sharp bite to the back of his scruff, sending him to the ground in submission. She refused to gain any more injuries before the next night.

Her clan were not one to care for one another. It was brutish and wearing, where the strong survived and the weak slowly suffered. However, she still had an alpha to answer to, to inform of her encounters while on patrol.

Amera left the young brute cowering on the ground before getting ready to face the Alpha and his mate. They were what you'd call a unit. Forever at in another's side, and sickeningly coordinated with oneandother.

Amera was not confrontational at the best of times. She disliked battles of whim and whit, and even more so of violence and brutality. However, she was in no mood to be trifled with, as the young wolf had seemingly figured out. He would mess with her no longer. She was still tiny in comparison, however when a young wolf is impressionable, it will remember the pain inflicted on it and she'd be left alone. That is what the dame hoped for.

The alphas den was large in comparison to her hole in the ground. It may have been lived in by some foxes at some point, because she had certainly not dug it out herself. However, she supposed the size difference made sense considering how the pair looked over her.

"Amera. I take it there were no issues," she female if the leaders questioned, her voice booming and yet perfectly regal. She was perhaps more of a stamp of a wolf that her mate who imposed over the two females.

"I did sight a wolf from the neighbouring clan. I doubt he would be of issue," Amera eventually replied, strain in her voice, and yet it still came across as velvet to the ear.

"You chased them off?" The brute next to her questioned, looking about ready to choak her for her lies. However, this was no lie; it simply was not the truth. He was gone, and he had not entered the land. She could afford to say she chased him off.

"Of course. I could not let him freely roam on our borders, could I?" She could barely scare a mouse. However, the pair didn't seem to care. They we're waiting for a war; a battle for territory. She could more than afford stretch the truth.

Soon, Amera was dismissed to tend to herself... she was to meet Bayne again that night. She had said she would not, and that she didn't want to set eyes on him... however, she couldn't help her curiousity get the better of her.

And so, she spent the rest of the day grooming herself and and snacking on lemmings that ran about. She simply had to clean her wounds and what little coat she had left... but soon, night had fallen once more, and she was trotting along her usual path, a squirrel dangling from her mush as a piece offering for hot her past companion.