<17>

	"Starla..."  Carson's calls were no longer frantic.  The panic had left him, replaced by nothing but despair.  She had left him, he was certain of it, as had his daughters before her.  He had been through the entire manor thrice with no results, constantly seeing flashes of his old life in the process.  His footsteps were far heavier, devoid of hope and energy, and finally he collapsed at the topmost step of the grand staircase.  His canine head fell into his hands as he stared at the worn wood beneath him, murmuring over and over, "Starla... Dora... Di... Starla... Dora... Di...."

	Without warning or expectation, a sudden flash of light appeared at the bottom of the staircase, and in its place stood the trio of female worgen - Diana in her usual mage garb, Starla in her tailored rogue leathers, and Dorothea still as disheveled as ever in only her bathrobe.

	Carson's glowing eye slowly turned down toward the flash, only to widen as if he'd seen an army of ghosts.  "Madness... this is it, isn't it?" he muttered more to himself than to the trio.

	The two sisters exchanged worried glances before stepping closer to the stairs together.  "No, Dad," Dorothea spoke gently.  "I'm really here... and I think you need to hear what we have to say."

	The hulking worgen male slowly rose to his feet again, and one step at a time he weakly descended the stairs, stopping at the last step before the bottom floor.  His single eye flitted between the two women, silently, desperately searching for the anger and disdain he expected... but found only concern and sadness.

	"Father..." Diana started.  "I'm-"

	Dorothea started to correct her.  "We're-"

	But neither had the chance as Carson lurched forward, throwing his arms around the both of them to wrap them in the most powerful bear hug he could muster.  "This is real..." was all that left his lips as his eye screwed shut, but the gesture was unable to hold back the cascade of tears that suddenly matted his furred muzzle.

	Both daughters quickly melted into their father's embrace, their arms struggling to wrap around his waist as they held him there for several long, quiet moments, mashing themselves into his furred chest as tightly as they possibly could.  "Daddy..." Dorothea murmured, muffled by his fur and her bitten back sniffles.  "We're sorry... so sorry...."

	"Shhhhhh," Carson hissed, his arched back quivering.  "You've nothing to be sorry about... I just... I wanted my daughters back, and here they are.  That's all that matters."

	Both daughters shook their heads in unison against him.  "No," Diana returned gently.  "We've got some air to clear first.  And you can't leave until we say our peace."

* * * * *

	Starla once again had watched the interaction quietly, a few tears wetting her eyes with a small smile planted upon her muzzle.  She desperately wanted to join in the embrace, but inside she felt she had to hold back for their sake.  As the trio composed themselves they moved into the nearest sitting room, while Starla chose to slip into the shadows and explore the massive, fascinating manor that she hadn't seen since she was a mere toddler.

	Father and daughters seated themselves upon the dilapidated, wing-backed armchairs and began to talk, each daughter in turn confiding their feelings, reasonings, and ultimately their despair at their fractured relationship.  Carson gladly poured his heart out in return, expressing his desire for their reunion, and apologizing profusely for making Dorothea feel as she had.  Hours passed as their stories unfolded, and by the time their talk died down, all three felt much more at peace about the past with each other.  Misunderstandings had been sorted, grievances had been forgiven, and promises to do better were forged.

	However, there was one thing that had yet to be addressed.

	"So..." Dorothea started first and looked to her father.  "Where do we go from here?"

	Carson's single eye turned toward the ceiling of the weathered manor.  "I suppose that depends on what you want.  You are both grown now, and you hardly-"

	Dorothea placed a tender hand on her father's leg.  "We will decide who and what we need in our lives of our own accord," she corrected him and looked to her sister.  "Won't we, Di?"

	The mage chuckled and nodded.  "Indeed.  You know, I thought I would enjoy city life, but honestly having to peddle magic trinkets in the market has grown as dull as the dreary skies.  I bet I could make a buttload more if I had something more substantial to sell, like... enchanted clothes?"

	Dorothea nodded in agreement.  "I wouldn't mind a change of scenery myself.  SI:7 is fine, but the men are... difficult to be around.  I've been around them for years, but none of them compare to the man Warren was... or the man my father is."  Her aqua eyes drifted up and down her shaggy-looking father for a long moment before she added, "You have no idea, frankly, what pigs exist among the ranks of the soldiers.  I've tried courting a male twice in fifteen years, and both were just... awful people.  I didn't want Starla to experience that, and they only made my feral frustration worse.  If a reprieve can only be found with you, Father, then I will gladly return home."

	"Same," Diana agreed with a scrunched-up muzzle.  "I don't think my urges are as bad as yours, Dory, but I've yet to find a proper gentleman who can give me consistent comfort either.  Perhaps, if our ol' pops here can promise us equal measure, maybe we can... work something a way to share?"

	For a fleeting moment, Carson looked between his beautiful daughters and hesitated, his mind struggling to reprogram itself after years of not hearing much from either of them.  "I want nothing more than us all to be on good terms once more... but I have some conditions we must establish before I can agree to this... proposal."