Garou tat.

[lanfykins.livejournal.com]

The silver of the klaive shone slightly in the afternoon light. She tilted it back and forth, watching the reflections shimmer across it.

She remembered how it had flashed in Kazimir's hand as he struck Michael with it. She remembered how the sound like crystal shattering had gone through her. She remembered painstakingly picking up every piece she could find, and Tolly handing her the ones that he had hidden.

She had wanted to give it to Jamie to repair, but Aunt Lucy had given it to Jules instead, and that was OK, because Jules was her friend. And it was Aunt Lucy's right to hold the klaive for Arkady - for Kayd...

Patterns like wet silk chased one another down the blade. Kayd wasn't going to change, and that was probably for the best. Jamie, her Alpha, had reforged the blade as he always should have. And Jules was dead.

She paused in her thoughts for a moment, waiting for a pain that didn't come. Jules was dead. She'd gone to the Wyrm, and the Ratkin had strapped her down to be raped, and then someone she trusted had killed her instead. And that was the end of one of her closest friends.

The pain still didn't come. All her memories of Jules seemed too far away and too long ago, and she couldn't make it real.

Connor was right. Life was too short to waste it crying. You had to look to the future.

"I am Yekaterina Tamara Yelena Vasilovna Nikitinevich, and I am your bearer now..."