Curse whoever had brought her here. Curse them to hell. She would rend the blood from their sorry body and bathe herself and her sisters with it all. She would skin them and turn them into a pathetic rug with which to wipe her paws. Curse them!

Lydia stood alone in the Wastes, eyes locked on the sea as it bit and teased the darkened shore. For a moment, if she had been dumber, this would have looked like the Malevolent grounds. However, it was much too hot, much too clear, and there were no birds. She could almost hear that dream visitor laughing at her. Was it because she had dared to forgive and be kind to a man? Never again would she!

At a brisk pace, the maiden set herself away from the Stoney Cove, scowling and hissing at tall stones. How unbecoming! How wretched! The laughing of ghosts and spirits of murdered women surrounded her, taunting and punishing for the kindness she dared to bestow to an undeserving beast of this world.

She would have none of it! NONE OF IT! Ignosce mihi! (Forgive me!) Throwing up her paws in prayer, her sandy elbows hit the ground, bending and tilting herself downward. Legs staying stiff, Lydia rambled on. Ignosce mihi, misit dolorem meum! Oblitus sum quis sim! Deviavi et amplectitus canem inusitatum, et propter hoc sum sordidus! Sordidissimus! Ignosce mihi, Alta Mater! Quaeso, ostende mihi domum! (Forgive me, I have misplaced my sorrow! I have forgotten who I am! I have strayed and embraced an unclaimed hound, and for that I am dirty! Dirtiest! Forgive me, High Mother! Please, show me home!) The words came easier to her than she would have liked, as she groveled, but did not beg. She pleaded, asked, but as the situation seemed unsalvageable, the woman stood with a huff.

Fine, then. She would walk back. With furrowed brows and an unpleasant glare, the wolf turned around to hurry back up the beach in the hopes that someone reasonable, with directions, was nearby.