<14>

	At this point, the wheels in Starla's mind were turning rapidly, her gaze fixed upon her cup.  "Something doesn't add up.  I mean, my mom's kinda, sorta, got a stick up her ass all the time, but running because she walked in on something she knew was happening?  Why?"

	Carson shrugged as he collapsed back into his sofa, physically exhausted from his lengthy, painful story.  "I gave you my guess, but she won't speak to me or Diana, so your guess is as good as mine."

	Starla physically shook her head, as if shaking the thoughts from her mind, before looking back to her grandfather with a sad smile.  "Thank you for telling me all of that.  I'm sorry I twisted your arm so much about it."

	The silver-furred male let out a heavy sigh.  "Don't be.  You deserve to know what your family's been through.  I wish it could have been different," he confessed quietly.  "I would give anything to have my daughters back, just to have them in my life again.  I wish we had found a less... sensitive manner with which to calm their urges.  Clearly there haven't been any better methods developed, hence your mother's brief return.  I fear she suppresses hers with sheer defiance, which is far from healthy, and it was unwise to try and do the same with you."

	"I think you're right," she admitted.  "Mother doesn't get a lot of sleep, which is why it's hard to sneak out most of the time.  She paces a lot, and I... really can't remember the last time I saw her happy."  Slowly, Starla rose from her seat to lean in and press her nose lovingly to her grandfather's.  "Thank you for everything, Papa Wolf.  I think I'm gonna go to bed early tonight."

	Carson returned the nuzzle just as tenderly, his one green eye sizing her up and down slowly.  "I'll be in later.  You've made me behind on my work."

	The two of them shared a gentle laugh before Starla headed for the bedroom, shutting the door behind her with a soft click.

* * * * *

	Carson's mind was flooded with harsh memories as he struggled to focus on his work.  Deep down, he had to wonder if Starla didn't have a point.  Perhaps it was simply his guilt that kept him from his daughters?  But Dorothea had made it abundantly clear that she wanted nothing to do with him.  His attempts to contact her over the years were only returned once, and he burned the letter shortly after reading it in frustration.  Diana was kind to him, but the excuse of her work kept her in the city, and her magic-wrought communications were always far too brief.  No matter how hard he tried to concentrate, his thoughts were drawn back to his shattered family.

	A grunt of anger escaped him as he finally threw his tools down in defeat.  The hulking worgen made for his room and opened the door as quietly as he always had... only to find his bed empty.  The bedroom window had been left open wide, easily large enough for even the curvy Starla to hop through.  An instant flashback of finding his daughters' beds empty shot through his mind, and a deep panic set in, this one far worse than ever before.  It had been several hours since she'd retired, and it was impossible to know where she could have gone.  Did she flee from him as Dorothea and Diana had?  Did his stories chase her away?

	The afflicted Gilnean had shown great mastery over his feral side since even his younger days, but in that moment the powerful influence of the worgen curse overtook his vulnerable body.  A bellowing howl left his maw as he suddenly dove through the window and shot off into the woods, his nose twitching wildly in search of Starla's distinctive scent, hoping against hope that he might find her, regardless of her reasons to leave.  He couldn't lose her, too.

* * * * *

	By the time Starla had heard the howl, she had made it to the towering, Northern gates of the City of Gilneas.  As soon as she'd retired, she'd shed her nightshirt in favor of a set of form-fitting, full-body leathers Carson had tailored for her, and as such her ability to slip through the shadows also included hiding her canine-esque scent.  Still, she was certain he would find her if she let her guard down, but she couldn't let him just yet.  Added desperation set in as she began to sneak her way through the city's near-empty streets.  It was too late in the evening for the usual crowd headed home, but a few stragglers yet closed up their shops in the market district.

	One such vendor smiled to herself as she scooped up her last few trinkets into a small pouch that she tied to her blue robe belt.  Glowing green eyes surveyed every inch of her stall as she waved a clawed hand, magically causing the simple wooden structure to shrink down to the size of a rat.  The light gray-furred worgeness was in the process of scooping the structure up, when suddenly Starla stepped forth from the nearest shadows.  "Excuse me, miss Shadowclaw?"

	The worgen whirled around with a yelp and clapped a clawed hand to her pronounced chest, struggling to catch her breath.  "Goodness, where are your manners, startling someone like that!?  I could've lit you on fire with a thought!"

	"Sorry," Starla apologized hurriedly.  "But that's who you are, right?  Diana Shadowclaw?"

	The mage looked Starla up and down for a few moments before nodding, wide-eyed.  "That's me, yes.  What of it?"

	Starla let out a sigh of relief.  "Wow, lucky first try.  Okay, um... so, you're my aunt, and I have some questions to ask you about my grandpa if you've got..."  She paused as another howl pierced the air, this one a bit closer, but still rather far from the city walls.  "... well, at least a few more howls of time."