How could he let her walk away like that? She’d removed the rosary, handed it to him, and smiled. Then, he’d let her walk away. He seemed frozen in position at the well, his elbows resting on the ancient wood, the rosary entwined around his fingers and pressed against his forehead. How long had he’d waited for this day – the day when he was no longer bound by the dreaded beads. How long had he waited to be free? How long had he waited to celebrate? Only now that it was too late he realized that he never wanted to be free, or at least not free from her. As much as he hated the dreaded word, he hated being separated from her more. Could he admit how he much he loved her? Should he admit how much he loved her? How could he allow the only woman who had ever loved him for himself, as hanyou, just walk away? Then he remembered: the names his mother was called, the tears she shed for him. Her blood as it pooled around her body as it turned cold, all because of her love of him and her desire to protect him.  And so the hanyou, alone once again, allowed his tears to fall – tears for the only woman he’d ever truly loved, tears for the only one who had loved him for himself other than his dear departed mother. For her sake he would let her go. For her sake, he would never reveal how he truly felt. For her sake, he would remain here alone.