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Talons, actually, but where the bread had come from made no difference to Hijil as she was wrapped in a hug that she accepted, grateful that Bhima had made the first move. She wrapped her own thick arms around Bhima, enjoying the warmth between them, the tingling at her temple, and - with a slightly more chagrined kind of enjoyment - noticing the clear difference in their size. She hesitated – only a moment - before kissing Bhima's neck (where she could reach) with equal affection.

”I've missed you...” she said, feeling her cares drift far away. There were a storm of questions and complications and confusions – she could feel them, lurking – but Bhima's warmth kept them at bay for now.

She looked up at Bhima as the alkidike ran her hand over her braid, remembering, in a single condensed rush, many of the other times that Bhima's fingers had danced over it's silken dips and curves. ”I've missed you so much... I'm sorry.” she said, with uncharacteristic haste, ”I'm sorry I left...” she said, her eyes, silver in the nighttime and huge with held-back tears, pleading to be forgiven.

Hijil could feel the mood changing, and she knew she had made a mistake. She should have just stuck with 'I missed you', but she'd had to say the other words... Words she wished she could take back and return to the warm feelings she'd had. But her words were in the air, and the warmth was cooling, rent by a question Hijil wasn't sure she wanted to answer.

She looked away from the pain in Bhima's eyes, instead watching the kinfa totter off to find its nest. She moved herself, her steps heavy to a chair. ”No...” she said, softly, fearfully, sitting down, her head in her hands. It was honest enough. She didn't want Bhima to ask that question. She'd known it was coming, though. She cradled her head in a hand, leaning against the table. She'd have to answer it someday.

”I killed my mother.” she said, reconsidering, choosing to answer. What was the point of lying?There had been so much time between them, that stalling anymore felt... wrong. In a way that was right. But wrong. The words were on the wind, now. ”I killed my mother.” she said, louder, hating those words.

”I didn't think you'd...” her voice trailed off, clogged again with too many words.

... want me...
...Forgive me...
...Love me...
...Understand...

”I'm sorry...” she whispered, gritting her teeth and closing her eyelids against the tears as she awaited Bhima's judgement.

Somehow, no matter how Hijil had rationalized it over the years, she still felt guilt over her mother's death. Her reaction on first seeing Shandi, that justice had finally caught up to her, was a common thread in her thoughts, almost a wish: that someone would have revenge for her mother, and would kill her for her terrible act.... because Hijil could not do the deed herself.

And now, almost, it seemed that that dream would finally come true. She would be judged and punished and that would be that. If she met her end at anybody's hands, she was glad that it was an Alkidike. Why should the alkidike not hate her for killing her mother? Mothers were what they had. To kill one would be unthinkable. It was better – and more fitting still - that it would be Bhima. She had been reunited and, if Bhima hated her for the murder on her hands, Hijil could think of nobody else she would rather be killed by.

Hijil waited, breath held, for what seemed like an eternity. The waiting – but a few moments of real time – was almost as bad as whatever punishment she could imaginewould come.

No punishment came. Instead there was warmth – Bhima's warmth – and gentle sensations along her scarred arm. Love.

Perhaps Bhima hadn't understood her. Perhaps Hijil hadn't been clear.

But Hijil knew she had been clear. She knew Bhima had understood – had understood and was now holding her and comforting her, despite the horror of what she had done. The shifter did not doubt that Bhima's answer was to all of the versions of the question that Hijil hadn't been able to ask. Overcome, she leaned into Bhima's chest, sobbing, crying tears that had waited to be cried for an admission that, for years, she hadn't dared to make out loud.

But she had been the one that had left, not Bhima. Hijil felt horrible, filled with guilt, as she hugged Bhima, not unlike a desperate sailor would hug the mast of a ship in a storm. She couldn't stop crying now, couldn't even get out anything intelligable, even if she had the words. Was it years of tears that she sobbed into Bhima's arms? Surely she had cried before.

She had, yes. But not like this. Not with someone there to hold her and comfort her. It helped. The other times, the tears had simply receded, like the tide, gone because there were other things that needed to be done. As, after what felt like an eternity of crying, they felt – finally – drained away, her soul mostly emptied of it's terrible pain.

She quieted slowly, a few stray sobs shaking her large frame as she drew away and looked up with reddened eyes at Bhima's face. ”If... If you won't...” she said, managing – finally – to speak the thought that had cycled in her mind since the very beginning of her tears, ”Then I won't, either.”

Hijil's eyes half closed as the feel of the kiss on her cheek brought to mind that other, trembling, unsure but exhilerating time, long ago, when their lips first met. They had been unsure then, but Hijil felt sure now. Sure-er anyway. Sure, anyway, of what she wanted to do.

Slowly, and perhaps a little irrationally, she reached out to touch Bhima's cheek, using the touch as a lever to bring her lips, gently and shyly, to hers. It was a kiss as gentle as Bhima's had been. There was no force behind it, no deepening into something more lustful.

But it was a step, a little step, out of loneliness. Salted by her tears, her lips, too, lingered longer than they had to before she drew away. She did not draw away completely, her face very close still, a silent hopeful question between them.

Could I kiss you again?

It was one of those things that was better the second time. Hijil felt like she was floating, her cares shedding away for another time and place that was not this one. Words could not describe how she felt, and honestly that was not the language of this moment. Only the touch of Bhima's skin, the feel of the fuzz that remained of her hair, and the electrifying feeling of their lips caressing meant anything at all.

As it should be

Hijil, honestly, had no idea what romance was. Their first kiss had been the innocent explorations of mere girls who's feelings for each other were strong enough to overcome their inexperience. Their first kiss, here and now, was an echo of that one from long ago. The second... The third... they was the beginning of something more. Something new.

Hijil ran her hand along Bhima's neck and cheek. ”I've never stopped thinking about you.” she admitted, ”Every night... every day...” she rested her forehead against Bhima's, ”Every time I see the stars, through the trees or in the water...” she closed her eyes, relishing now the overwhelming feelings of good that shuddered through her. ”I think of you.”

In all her wandering and wondering, Hijil had never thought that Bhima might have also thought of her, that she had made an impression as deep as that in the Alkidike's life. Surely she had had others to think about, her friends and family, her tribe. They had been there, Hijil realized, when Hijil had not. Hijil had been alone. For her, there had been few others to think about, save for young Xilarn and the kindly Shifter who had saved her life. And herself, of course. But Bhima had had choices and options. She knew that what Bhima said was true, though. Bhima had had options, and Bhima had chosen to think of her.

“Our spot?” she murmured, “It's still there?” somehow, she had thought that it, like the past, would have been overtaken by the jungle by now. But as the past was clearly not yet gone, was it so strange that it would remain as well? “It was nice to see the stars with you there...” she said, “It was my refuge.” she added. She didn't think she had ever said so much to Bhima before. “You made it so...” she put her own hand over the hand that cupped her face. “I'd like to... go there with you again.”

...Just the tree? Hijil felt a small, coiling surge of sadness, like smoke. Of course. The jungle had eaten the platform, as it did with all dead things not maintained.

But – the sadness, again like smoke, faded away – It could be rebuilt. Anything could. Anything, after all was possible... this proved as much.

”Of course.” Hijil whispered. She lifted her head to gently kiss Bhima's forehead, ”Of course I will.” she said again, stronger now. She held the hand on her cheek and drew back, just to look at Bhima. Just to look at her. ”Where else would I want to be?” a small worry – very small, now, but significant enough to remain – danced across her face. ”If you forgive me... for before”