[ P ] i'll find you again in my next life

It wasn't quite fall and yet the air was cold. The breeze had a crisp chill to it, one that nipped the nose and made the lungs tight.

It's time to... harvest some of the herbs... before the frost sets in, Kylar mused, her thoughts aimless as she lounged. Her gaze was unfocused, drifting just as her attention did, never quite able to settle. No tree, bush, or leaf could quite capture her, but not for lack of trying. Some had already began to turn orange, to melt into autumn with a whisper. Autumn. It was not her favorite season, she much preferred summer. Summer was when things grew bold and bright—when everything that was broken became fixed. Snapped branches were at last replaced by healthy ones, hurt wolves found friends—family.

Nephele found me in Summer.

For the first time that morning, Kylar's aimless thoughts—which failed to land, to stick—settled. Warmth blossomed within her chest, spreading from her heart to her head. It became a sweetness on her tongue, a sweet scent upon the breeze. She could hear their splashing in the oceans of Cyrileth, Nephele's gasp as she popped out of the waves like a pirhana. A smile ghosted across Kylar's lips as the memory, fuzzy now from age, was like a blanket over her shoulders.

Her memories were not all that were fuzzy—everything seemed to be blurred at the edges. She struggled to make out the contours of the horizon, even the shape of the clouds. It all took so much effort, effort that she didn't have since taking ill with pneumonia.

Even now, she wheezed. Her breaths were labored, her nose dry. She tried to think of what remedy might work in this case—to anticipate what to ask Anthe or Willow for—but what she grasped was soon released. Herbology—her second love after giving up her dream of becoming a knight—suddenly seemed so unimportant next to the haze of fading summer sunshine. Against the warm glow of memories—marrying Nephele at summer's end, of finding their children near summer's beginning. Meeting Anteros when they were little more than kids themselves and setting off to leave behind all that they knew in summer's middle.

A cough, thick with phlegm and violent against her ragged throat, caused her to grimace. Her chest heaved yet it managed to move very little. Kylar doubled over, expression pinching with pain. For a moment, her warm little world of memories shattered. She felt the cold, the exhaustion, the throb within her leg.

What had been a silent injury for so long—a painful splintering of the bone that never healed right—had become terribly visible since her arduous treck north. She had been a fool to make the journey after reinjuring it in the protest. But Kylar had always been a fool. A fool for those that she loved and, sometimes, in spite of them.

And she had her fair share of regrets—that was true. She should have been a calmer woman, a more patient friend, a more diligent mother. But where she lacked in those areas, Nephele made up for it all.

Nephele.

That warm glow came back and a small smile found Kylar's lips. She blinked, gaze refocusing on the ground—although even that had become simply a swath of color.

Turning her head, Kylar limped back into the den she shared with her wife. Her steps were weak, her body shaking, and ultimately she lowered onto her belly. From there, she crawled forward until her nose bumped into her wife's dark fur. The scent of sickness was lost on Kylar's memories, for they were bright with the aroma of salt, medicine, and the flowers they had raised together.

Out of habit, reflex, and love, Kylar curled up next to her wife. She wrapped a paw around Nephele's side and pulled her close, eyes closing as she burrowed into the fur at Nephele's nape. I love you, she thought, the first coherent one she'd had all morning. So she whispered it too, hanging onto that last lucid thread: "I love you, so much, Nephele," Kylar whispered.

Her voice was hoarse, a shadow of what it once was, but Kylar heard it as if she was still a young woman whispering it within a cave in Cyrileth. She said it now as she had every day—with such heartfelt meaning that it was impossible to imagine she'd ever love anyone else more.

Kylar's mouth closed, her gaze softened. She rested her head on the ground, her breaths became shallower and shallower.

At last, after so much life, summer was ending—and so was she.

- exit Kylar, for the last time -

TABLE BY NESLA/NORI

The final days of Nephele Fritz' life were spent in a feverish daze of nostalgic dreams and wistful reflections of years gone by. Racing along the coast as a love sick girl, prancing through the ocean as water sprayed them both. All the giggles, tears and love shared between them. She never dared to dream, nor hope for the life she had experienced. From birth her path had been chosen for her. Innocent emerald eyes robbed of the beauty of the world now forever shrouded in darkness. It was Kylar's paw that pulled her out of the shadows and introduced her to a life of colour. Green. The smell of grass, of life and dandelions. Blue. The salty smell of the sea, the place where they met. Red, the warmth of the sun in summer, the colour of her wife's eyes and of the poppies where they shared their first dance. Orange, the sweet smell of pumpkins and mischief. She didn't need to see them to know them. With Kylar by her side her life was bursting with rainbows.

The journey to the Highlands had been rough on the older women. Kylar's leg was damaged beyond repair despite Nephele's best efforts to increase her mobility. It was a trial that they were both willing to endure to meet their granddaughter for the first time. It had been a joyous escape from whispers of war and strife. Nephele shared giggles and teased her beloved Ky about being grandmas while cooing over the fluffy little bundle that had come so unexpectedly, but already so loved. When the sniffles first started Nephele wasn't worried. She fussed and nagged at Kylar to rest, ignoring her own declining health to do her duty as a nurse.

Nephele stirred when she had the off-beat rhythm of Kylar's gait, one that had become so familiar and dear to her heart. Her head tilted and she reached out sluggishly with her forepaws, tail weakly thumping on the ground. She took in a breath, lungs wheezing and thick with mucus. She snuggled close, tucking her forehead under Kylar's neck and inhaled her scent through her crusty nose. She touched her nose to Ky's chest, over her heart, announcing her affection through the touch language. I love you. "Ky…My love, my brave.. sweet Ky," Nephele rasped and shakily leaned up to plant one last kiss upon her cheek.

Part of her sensed that the end was coming and with the last of her strength she held on to Kylar as if her dying embrace would keep them together after death. She gasped her last few breaths and held her close, nose tapping lightly against her wife's chest as their weak heart beats counted down their final moments. I love you. It fluttered delicately, the heart that had raced when brushing fur with the stranger on the beach, pounded wildly when touching her nose to Kylar's chest declaring her love through touch, burst with joy when saying I do, overflowed with love when they became mothers. Every beat had drummed the life song of Nephele Fritz. Now in its still silence it marked her end, snuggled tight in the arms of her beloved.

- Exit Neph for the last time

Art by Ashon

about a week before he finds them...

ANTEROS ABERSENTHE
WHAT IS THE DEFINITION OF FAIR?

After meeting with Willow and seeing she was well in health and with her child made Anteros think about the offer Kylar had made to spend time with their family. He traveled now, further than he typically did, to go see how Kylar and Nephele had been doing since their last encounter. He wanted to thank Kylar for their closure as it had given him the room to find Nora with the promise of love again. He could feel his stomach churn, not in the sense of being worried by her reaction, but more so excited to tell her of the news. He knew she would be happy for him, and he wanted her to also know that Willow was doing well, as well as the concerns of their daughter. There was much news to share and he wished to reach them before the winter, in hopes to ease any concerns they may have had.

As he approached there den something seemed to be off. The stench of decomposition lingered in the air, but he supposed it was an old meal they had left out by accident. Though he did not see anything of the sort, he found no reason to worry.

"Kylar?... Nephele?" He called out towards their den where he was met with no answer. Was he intruding? "I just wanted to stop by and say hello," he added in hopes to better announce his presence. Still there was nothing and the thought in the back of his mind pinged him that something was wrong. He did his best to mask it, coming closer to the entrance of the den, but not prepared for what he saw.

There lay Nephele and Kylar, side by side and nuzzled into each others fur. The stench of death was overwhelming as the flies buzzed around the corpses of the two. His heart hammered, the immediate feeling of sickness welled within him. his breath was slighted, "no, please no......kylar?" He choked up, "Kylar, please, please no....." He couldn't dare touch her as the heat swelled in his cheeks, tears formed within golden eyes causing his vision to blur out their lifeless bodies. "I should have come sooner," his cheeks were stained, sobs soon followed as he backed out from the den, no longer able to view the scene or comprehend that she was gone forever.

His first love. The reason he had grown so strong and understood the meaning of emotion and how to process them. How to open his heart to something so beautiful and amazing. His best friend.

His best friend...

He lay at the front of the den, muzzle pressed into his paws as he cried against the sound of the winds and running river waters, alone. It was the second time Anteros had ever experience great sadness, the first being when their time together had come to an end. Now he experienced that sadness with the feeling of an unimaginable loss. The realization he could never talk to her again, the regret of being unable to tell her that Willow was doing well, and only having the memory of her touch to live with for the remainder of his life.

exit anteros

code by claerie