I was not sure if you would remember me. You walked blind from my bed. You stumbled over your own blood. Did you know that? Did you think it water? Did you notice the metal smell of it? I can see. I saw your feet covered in the grime and the pebbles clinging to your blood. It ran off your face. I thought you would die of it. Wander to a cave where a she wolf could lick your face until you thought he me. Her bite to your neck would be sharp pleasure. She would eat your life more grateful then I. Maybe you would curl in the forest and give yourself to the plants. The vines that would feed on you would grow over your body. I would find you again one day half man half vegetation. You would be green beautiful and quiet. I could read a book to your children under your shade.

You did not know of the twins. I am not sure I knew either. They were still so small that day, minnows in a large lake. flitting from side to side without a wave to me.One for you one for me. Dark to fair. Fair to dark. Even they were just never at the same side, two storms always meeting to the middle. A girl who prayed to archery and Diana. A boy who curled to me knee and made stitches the spiders wondered at. You and me, yours and mine. We looked for you. Nature walks I would point to lumps in the vegetable garden. We would look beyond the pines. I can only imagine the creature they thought you to be. A god of old forests dead of mortal, remade of the land. I think they were terrified we would find you. In truth so was I.

I would not have minded if your fall from me landed you to godhood. I looked eager in wolf dens and behind fairy trees. I never raised my eyes in the village. I created an unnatural fear of blind beggers. I prayed I had lifted you and not dropped you.

For all my plans and fears I had only ever devised these fates for you. Stumbling to the village perched over an ocean a need for salt and pulse in my ear I had never thought to find you here at the edge of the world. The forest shed, your eyes pale and clouded shifting behind veils I could not see through. I prayed the smell of fish would be my mask. I could hide pine beneath cod but you lifted your face from nets you wove. Whiskers dense on your face you spun your face to me. I knelt beside you and took your hands in mine. A name was at your lips and I leaned forward. It was not mine and your voice rang sharp a sirens call for a woman large and wide. She stepped between us and shuffled me far from the gull cries of your cabin. 

My son would weave a dozen or more nets a day each patterned and studded with jewels. He was mine after all. The kings and lords used only his nets. They say the jewels catch the best trouts. It is a fancy game opening the fish at the table to find what emerald or topaz falls on the guest's plate. I have not seen our girl often. She goes by a name of her own choosing. She ran to the forest in boy's disguise and lives a life far and separate. They are yours but old love they are also mine.