The journey home--if it could be called that--had left the doe a little more than frazzled by the anxiety of the buck she'd met at the obelisk. He'd called her clever and lovely. He'd wanted her to travel with him, to find his twin, and she'd run like a scared rabbit.A measure of shame and regret burned at the memory. She was a predator, not prey. And to be scared of an acha--an acha--she couldn't help feeling like a cowardice failure. It, however, didn't stop her from wondering if she might see him again. To be fair, she wouldn't have called it hope. She didn't pine like some silly creature infected with puppy infatuation. (The fact her tongue twisted into knots whenever the thought of l-lo-like came up...) Indeed, just that morning a perplexed Giveforward has asked why she wasn't in a hurry to go back home. The doe had mumbled off a preposterous mingle of nonsense before volunteering to hunt for breakfast.
It was far past the morning meal now and still, she sat perched by a popular lake. From the desert, it was one of the first ones kin might wander upon. Even to herself it was hard to lie about why it was this spot she'd selected. Although she definitely wasn't there because he was--she rolled her eyes at herself. She just wanted to greet him, if she saw him. For the length of her life, she'd focused so much on the beast of her naming, on the ocean, that the idea of a friend was intriguing. That was all. And so she sat, waiting to see if he might appear.
Besides the odds she would even see him were likely terrible. There were tons of acha, both in the swamp and not. Surely there would be more making the trek into the native home of the kimeti. He may not even decide to come. Not everyone cared to see what was beyond their home. And if she hadn't herself wanted to venture away from her birthplace, she might have thought that no one ever did. But she had. And maybe, maybe he might, too.
