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- February, 1997 -
The scream shattered the silence, so sudden and sharp that it startled a flock of crows from the high fir treetops. They burst into flight in a panicked flurry and their caws echoed through the dense canopy like a warning to the wilderness to stay alert. Their collective escape resembled a dark cloud coming alive in the sky, a sight that seemed all too fitting for the grim scene unfolding below.
When Siuan heard the noise, she was jolted and her gaze instantly followed the direction it had come from. A chill slashed through her, rooting her to the spot and leaving her paralysed for an unsettlingly long moment. The agony in that cry was alarming enough, but the abrupt return to complete silence that followed was unnerving in its own right.
Her movements thereafter were instinctual and automatic. The log she had been splitting thudded to the ground, forgotten, and the axe slipped from her fingers as though pulled by invisible strings. Driven by an urgent fear, she dashed towards the source of the scream, her legs moving with a desperation that seemed to detach them from her own will. Everything was left to her instincts, except for one single thought that managed to pierce the fog of panic - Moiraine.
As she hurried, tears began their escape unnoticed, carving wet trails down Siuan’s cheeks. It was only when her sight blurred into a watery haze that she became conscious of the tears, hastily wiping them away. She forced her mind to clear, steeled herself for whatever lay ahead. However, as she neared, her eyes brimmed anew upon the sight of Moiraine’s still form sprawled on the forest floor. Collapsing on her knees, Siuan’s hands trembled as they tenderly framed Moiraine’s face.
“Mo?” It was less a question and more a piteous plea, a begging for the young woman before her to stir, to respond to her voice, to give any sign of life. When no answer came, a new wave of fear washed over Siuan, spurring a frantic edge into her voice as she called out again.
“Moiraine?” Her voice cracked, breaking on the name with a rawness that bled fear, disbelief and a profound sense of helplessness. What had happened? What the fuck had happened?
Siuan’s mind raced as she scanned the vicinity for any hint, any clue that could piece together the events which had led to this moment. Eventually, her eyes settled on the broken branches that were scattered around Moiraine’s body, the raw, exposed wood of the break indicating it was fresh. Lifting her eyes, she traced the path of destruction upwards, realising that Moiraine must have plummeted from above. But why? Why the hell had she climbed up there in the first place?
Abruptly, the crunch of footsteps behind her snapped Siuan out of her spiralling thoughts. Misty was there in an instant, dropping to the earth beside them. She hovered her hands over Moiraine’s body, ready to act but clearly unsure of her next move.
“What happened??” Misty’s voice was as panicked as Siuan felt, her eyes wide and searching.
Siuan wasn’t quite sure what to answer, but her words spilled from her lips before she could even think to form them. “I… I… think she fell from the tree!” Her words came stammered but Siuan was glad she had managed a response at all. Two pairs of eyes then traced upwards again, examining the path of snapped branches from the heights to the ground that was left by Moiraine’s fall.
A haunting question lingered on Siuan’s lips, yet fear held her tongue for the moment. Her eyes were glued to her girlfriend’s face, the paleness which was even more pronounced than usual; unnaturally, deathly.
“Is she…” the words trailed off, unspoken, too harrowing to voice.
Misty, however, wasn’t paying much attention to Siuan anyway, her hands now frantically beginning to examine Moiraine more closely. She tried to reach her abdomen, probing through the layers of tattered fabric to asses her injuries. Siuan’s gaze followed Misty’s hands, and it was only then that she noticed the dark red puddle that was spreading from Moiraine’s side. As Misty peeled back the clothing and revealed bare skin, Siuan gasped when she saw the branch that had impaled Moiraine’s ribcage, confirming that this was indeed a dire situation.
*
Moiraine was alive, barely.
Although Siuan was loath to admit it, she knew they had to thank Misty for her makeshift medical care which ultimately was the reason Moiraine hadn’t slipped away entirely. Yet, trust was a commodity Siuan found in short supply, especially when it came to Misty. Each time she came to their improvised infirmary in the attic, Siuan watched her from a cautious distance with eyes as sharp and calculating as those of a hawk.
Under any normal circumstance, Siuan would have kept that blonde psycho at least an arm’s length away from Moiraine, and, for that matter, from all of her friends. However, these were not ordinary times, and Siuan’s apprehension was drowned out by the tide of hope that Moiraine would somehow recover.
Five days had passed since the accident and time had gone by painfully slowly. It was hard to tell when - or if - Moiraine would gain consciousness again. Another day could pass, or perhaps more, before they would see her blue eyes open once again, and with every sunset, the question mark loomed larger. Without proper medical tools, they were basically in the dark about Moiraine’s condition, clinging to hope and prayers as their only guide.
On day three, Siuan had snapped. Overcome with frustration, she had lashed out at Misty, her fury ending only when she had found herself clutching a blonde lock of hair, and being forcefully dragged away by Taissa and Shauna.
The catalyst that had triggered that reaction had been Misty’s bleak rundown of potential prognosis and fates for Moiraine - “It might not be just a concussion, Mo could be braindead; Her ribs could have pierced her organs, leading to internal bleeding, gradually, slowly, there’s nothing we can do; There’s a chance her spinal cord might be severed; Maybe that branch damaged her lungs, which would explain why she breathes like that; She might never wake up again; She might die” - it had all been too much, had sliced through Siuan like a blade, cutting her bottled up sorrow free.
Siuan knew, deep down, that Misty’s assessments were grounded in truth, perhaps even more likely than she was willing to confront. Yet, the thought of accepting them as potential possibilities had felt like a betrayal of Moiraine in that moment.
In the days that followed, dawn and dusk came and went without fail, but Siuan kept speaking to Moiraine, despite the lack of answers she received. These monologues where more than mere attempts at communication, they were Siuan’s way of coping. So, she lovingly engaged in her one-sided conversations, asking Moiraine about the elusive ‘why’ behind the accident, what she had hoped to find in that tree, and whether she was in a lot of pain now.
Siuan poured her very soul into these moments, longing to bridge the gap of silence that separated them now. She even shared secrets and stories she had never told anybody before, all in the hope that somewhere within Moiraine, a sliver of awareness would stir, a spark or a flicker that would guide her back from the abyss in which she seemed lost.
Even as Siuan attended to her duties in the woods, dictated by the unpredictable draw of the cards each day, her mind never strayed far from Moiraine. Amidst the rustle of leaves and the whisper of the wind, Siuan often pondered whether Moiraine could hear, understand her words, sense her presence. This cycle of thoughts always spiralled into a singular, haunting question - Would Moiraine wake up, or was she destined to die?
*
It was early morning and Siuan was jolted from the first true rest she had found in days by a subtle shift beside her. It had been the first night she had slipped into sleep not from sheer exhaustion but because she had actively decided to get some rest. The previous nights, she had tossed and turned, tried to burn every detail of Moiraine’s face into her memory, every wrinkle, every freckle, every birthmark.
In a heartbeat, Siuan was alert, kneeling beside Moiraine and holding her breath, watching for any sign that she was truly about to wake up. Anxiety and fear gripped her violently by the throat, and the thought of alerting Misty flickered in her mind, but all of it was swept away as Moiraine’s eyes fluttered open, her gaze finding Siuan’s.
“S- Siuan.” Moiraine’s voice was hoarse and fragile, barely even a whisper. She made a weak effort to sit up, her muscles tensing weakly, but Siuan pressed a gentle hand on her shoulder, urging her to remain still.
“Shh, shh, shh. Don’t try to move!” Siuan whispered, troubled with emotions she fought to keep at bay. “You had an accident,” she continued as Moiraine’s attempts to move ceased.
“An… accident?”
“You fell from a tree, Mo. Do you remember that?” Her question was tentative and careful, probing Moiraine’s recollection of the events as her eyes scanned her expression for any sign of recognition.
“The symbol,” Moiraine whispered, her focus drifting, her eyes glazing as they locked onto something beyond the ceiling, fixated on a vision only she could perceive. “It’s up there… in the tree. High. The red river… it’s not… blood. And… it’s not a symbol either. Lottie is right, there’s no evil. The mark is a… a… map. Leave.”
Her words spilled forth in a hushed rush, leaving Siuan scrambling to piece together their meaning. Moiraine’s demeanour had shifted abruptly. She appeared lost, feverish as if she was in some kind of delirium. Moments later, Moiraine slipped away again, her head tilting to the side in a silent surrender to unconsciousness.
Siuan woke up everybody, gathering all Yellowjackets for an urgent meeting to address the situation at hand and discuss their strategy.
With each passing hour, Moiraine’s condition was deteriorating alarmingly and Misty diagnosed a severe fever, trying to cool her down with ice blocks wrapped in cloths. Natalie announced her intent to climb the tree to verify the existence of the symbol. Meanwhile, Taissa and Van would leave to revisit the crimson riverbank, searching for any clues that might have been overlooked.
Lottie urged the group to unite in a shared breathing ritual, to forge a spiritual connection with the Wilderness, with It, channeling their collective will towards Moiraine’s recovery. Normally, Siuan held little regard for Lottie’s mystical rituals, doubting the substance behind her claims and visions. Yet, under the circumstance, she found herself earnestly participating, silently imploring any listening entity to spare Moiraine’s life.
Above all, Siuan knew one thing to be true - she could not, would not, abandon this wilderness without Moiraine. Should the fates decree otherwise, Siuan was prepared to face her own end rather than live in a world without her true love. Deep in her soul, she knew they shared some kind of unique bond, one that would always lead them back to each other. In this life, or the next.
- September, 2021 -
“And then I said to her no, YOU listen, bitch. I mean can you imagine? The audacity of that woman……..”
Moiraine’s mind wandered off from the conversation. Misty’s voice was just as squeaky and annoying as she had remembered it and she honestly considered to just tell her to shut up. She idly swirled her Caipirinha with the paper straw that barely made its way through the densely crushed ice. Little by little, Moiraine began to realise that attending this event was turning out to be an even dumber idea than she had initially thought.
To make her time at least somewhat bearable, she took a deep sip from her drink, grimacing at the taste of it. The sugar stubbornly refused to blend with the lime and alcohol and the cachaça was a grotty hootch that offended her taste buds. It was precisely the sort of disappointment she had expected from a mediocre bartender operating out of a high school gym in this shit hole of a town. Yet, alcohol was alcohol, and it certainly held the promise to dull the edges of her mind.
The idea of attending the reunion of class ‘96 had initially not resonated with Moiraine. First, it was too far of a trip. Second, her responsibilities as the new CEO of Damosteel Inc. consumed most of her time and energy. Additionally, the thought of reuniting with her former teammates stirred a mix of emotions she would have preferred to avoid, for her own good. However, despite all these factors, she couldn’t deny her own curiosity. In the end, the decisive factor in her eventual attendance was the knowledge that Siuan Sanche would be absent.
The evening was still young but Moiraine was already drunk. She considered this her best strategy to get through this dreadful evening. A good level of tipsiness made Misty’s endless monologues about her stupid pet bird tolerable, and allowed Moiraine to feign interest in Taissa and Shauna’s conversations about marriage and children.
The surreal nature of the situation didn’t escape her mind, though. These individuals had once been her closest allies through an intensely traumatising chapter of her life, and yet, they had become the very people she most wished to never see again.
Still, here she was, the savvy CEO accustomed to constantly navigating social events and playing complex mind games, feeling oddly out of place. The only thing that still kept her here was the cheap booze.
More booze. That was what she needed, Moiraine thought as she twirled her empty glass. Just as she was about to get up off the stool and head over to the bar to get another drink, the entrance door swung open, revealing none other than Siuan.
Shock rooted Moiraine to the spot, her hand mechanically lifting the empty glass to her lips, tasting nothing but the diluted remnants of her previous drink. Her gaze was magically drawn to Siuan, the way she moved, the way she looked, a signature confidence in her posture. Time seemed to have sculpted her with a gentle hand, her features matured but unmistakably hers. The same fierce gaze, the same stubborn chin, the same dimples when her smile became wide enough. It made Moiraine’s stomach churn.
“I thought she wasn’t coming,” Moiraine murmured, more to herself than anyone else, yet her words carried, drawing the attention of those at her table. In an instant, the group’s focus shifted entirely, their heads turning to greet Siuan like the brood of hysterical hens they were.
Without so much as waiting for Siuan to arrive at their table, Moiraine was gone, circumnavigating the buzz of excitement to get to the bar, seeking to order something even stronger.
“A double-shot of vodka, on ice. Or actually, you know what, make it a triple. And a pack of cigs, please,” Moiraine requested, spurring the barkeeper into action.
As he prepared her order, Moiraine attempted to detach herself from the cheerful exchange that resounded from behind her. With drink and cigarettes finally in her hands, she turned back to observe the scene. Siuan had seamlessly joined the group, as if no time had passed. Obnoxious. There was no way Moiraine would go back to them now, she had to leave.
Turning on her heels, she made it to the exit and walked down the empty hallway until she reached the familiar side door which lead to a secluded spot in the schoolyard. This place, hidden around a corner and under a gingko tree, had been her secret spot during her teenage years. No matter if it had been to eat her lunch in peace, or to copy Shauna’s biology homework without getting busted, or later, to sneak off with Siuan to make out.
Moiraine took a hearty swig of vodka, attempting to drown the memories that bubbled to the surface. She exhaled deeply as she leant back against a concrete ledge. The coarse texture of the stone making a scraping noise, likely snagging a few threads of her cobalt blue silk blouse. Moiraine couldn’t care less about it right now.
She lit up a cigarette and took a deep drag. The initial inhale scorched its way into her lungs until it burned. A few drags later, the nicotine began its soothing work, easing her tension and clearing the haze in her mind. The noises of nighttime traffic from the nearby main road drifted over, offering the usual comfort to Moiraine. Since their rescue from the wilderness, it wasn’t quiet forest sounds, gentle lapping of water or rain sounds that calmed Moiraine down. It was the urban sound of traffic, of honking cars and sirens, or the buzz of voices in the radio - the sounds of civilisation.
The sudden creak of the door had Moiraine leaping away from her makeshift perch, the tranquility of the moment shattered to pieces. She whirled around and instantly locked her gaze with a set of deep brown eyes, so familiar that she’d recognise them anywhere.
“Can I bum one of those?” Siuan asked, gesturing towards the lit cigarette in Moiraine’s hand. Her voice carried a playful undertone and she flashed a tentative smirk, one that effortlessly brought her dimples into view. Moiraine was caught off guard and froze on the spot.
“You don’t smoke,” Moiraine countered, her tone more automatic than accusatory, surprised at the question and at herself for engaging. This wasn’t part of her plan.
“Neither do you, usually.” Siuan arched an eyebrow.
“You think you know me?” Moiraine’s response came out sharper than she had intended and she bit her tongue for it.
“Sheesh, settle down. I just want a smoke.” Siuan joked, seemingly unfazed by Moiraine’s harshness.
With a sigh, Moiraine handed Siuan the pack and lighter. Then, she lowered her gaze to the ground, lingering on the cracked patterns of the asphalt and trying to avoid Siuan’s bottomless eyes as if they held some bewitching power over her. Why was Siuan here? Why had she followed her outside? Anxiously, Moiraine emptied her glass in one final gulp.
“I see you haven’t quit drinking, then?” Moiraine could tell there was a hint of disappointment behind Siuan’s question.
“No.” Moiraine’s response was curt and plain, a cold statement on a truth she would rather keep hidden. The last thing she wanted was to delve deeper into this topic with Siuan, of all people. Yet, despite her being desperate to leave, her feet seemed cemented to the ground.
“Are you getting help, Mo?” The concern in Siuan’s voice cut through the previous note of disappointment. Moiraine could feel the intensity of Siuan’s gaze, those deep brown eyes trying to read her, to understand.
“Don’t call me Mo,” Moiraine snapped back, offended by the old nickname. It was too personal and too intimate, and it was coming from lips which had not uttered it in years.
The silence that followed was thick. It wasn’t the kind that one would describe as comfortable. It was charged with an unease that made breathing a bit more challenging.
Moiraine’s fingers tightened around the glass in her hands, the fact that it was empty suddenly an unbearable ache. Her gaze flicked downwards to check if there was definitely not a sip left. Startled by what she saw, her posture went rigid, every muscle coiling tight as she beheld pine needles swirling in molten ice that was now stained a sinister dark red, resembling blood.
“What’s wrong?” Siuan asked, observing the shift in Moiraine’s demeanour and breaking the spell of her shock.
For a moment that probably felt longer than it actually was, Moiraine looked up and found herself lost in the dark, mysterious depths of Siuan’s eyes that seemed to lead into an enchanted maze, one Moiraine had once traversed with ease. Looking back to the glass, the illusion had vanished, leaving no trace of pine needles or blood in her drink.
“Nothing,” Moiraine lied. It had been years since her last hallucination.
Silence settled over them once more, softer and less fraught this time. Moiraine knew she had to leave. Not now, but soon. First, there was one question she needed to ask, one which had been coursing through her mind and plaguing her for years.
“How’s married life?” she asked, her tone neither mean nor overly friendly.
“I’m divorced,” came the flat reply.
“Sorry to hear,” Moiraine found herself saying, though she wasn’t quite sure why she said that.
“Don’t be. What about you? Are you seeing someone?”
“Well, if you count the casual flings with people from Tinder, then yes. But that’s just mindless fucking every now and then.” Moiraine immediately questioned why she had shared that and began to anxiously chew on the inside of her cheek. Alcohol might be all fun and games until it made you speak nothing but the truth.
Siuan gave no laughter or comment in response and Moiraine sensed that this was as good an opportunity as any to end their unexpected meet-up. Moving towards the door seemed like the next logical move, but as she took the first step, Siuan’s voice anchored her in place once more.
“Do you ever think about those days?” The question was simple, yet it punched Moiraine squarely in the gut. Without further detail, the reference was still crystal clear to her, touching on memories she preferred to keep locked behind a wall she had built decades ago.
Siuan, undeterred by Moiraine’s silence, continued regardlessly, “I often think about that night when the sky was so clear, it felt like we could see every star in the universe. You were trying to teach me constellations, remember? You pointed out Cassiopeia and I thought it looked more like two taco shells than a queen.”
At this, a small chuckle broke from Moiraine, only brief and unwanted. She did remember. Siuan was truly a hopeless case when it came to astrology.
“Or what about the night that crazy storm hit?” Siuan murmured, making a step towards Moiraine’s directions. She was standing closer now than before and Moiraine could smell her perfume. “I was terrified! The sky was alive with lightning and it felt like the world was ending. But then I found you, just standing outside on the porch, watching the sky like you were challenging it to do its worst. You looked so invincible, not afraid of anything. And when you noticed me, you didn’t say a word, you just held out your hand and we stood together, watching the chaos unfold.
A pause hung in the air, heavy with words unsaid, before Siuan’s gaze found Moiraine’s with an intensity that bridged years in seconds. “It was you, you know,” Siuan said softly. “You were the reason I believed we could make it. Your strength… it gave me hope. Please, don’t leave.”
Moiraine felt something shift within her, a wall crumbling down. “Siuan… I…,” she opened her mouth to speak but words failed her. Her gaze betrayed her feelings, shifting uncontrollably from Siuan’s brown eyes to her full lips, before Moiraine could avert her eyes in a futile search for detachment.
But then, Siuan’s tentative touch intervened, her hands tenderly lifting Moiraine’s chin, compelling to look at her once again. With a softness that took Moiraine by surprise, Siuan kissed her.
The kiss was so unexpected and yet so tender, and initially, it sparked a reflex within Moiraine to recoil, to push Siuan away, to tell her how much she hated this, how much she hated her, to erase her name from her memory, once and for all. Yet, none of those impulses took hold. Instead, Moiraine found herself drawn in, her hands reaching out to the hem of Siuan’s jacket to pull her closer.
The odd tingle in Moiraine’s stomach made her weak to the knees, lulled her senses into something she had given up hoping for decades ago. It made her lose herself how close Siuan was, how good she smelled, how familiar her curls felt in Moiraine’s grip. Denying it would have been pointless - Moiraine had missed her.
*
Moiraine woke up as sunlight invaded the room, its intensity forcing her to squint through the disorientation. A dull ache pulsed at the base of her skull and she silently cursed herself for last night’s excesses. She reached for the glass of water on her nightstand but her movements were suddenly halted by the sound of rustling sheets behind her. Turning, the sight of Siuan sharing her bed sent a wave of panic through her.
The memories of the previous night began to seep back, fragmented and foggy by the haze of alcohol. It had been the reunion event of class ‘96, a meet-up with the Yellowjackets, Siuan had not been supposed to be there. Yet, she had been there, not just present but actively following Moiraine outside, asking for a cigarette. Siuan had kissed her, and Moiraine had let her. They had gone to the hotel room, Moiraine had pinned Siuan against the door, then the table, then the bed. Had they…?
Glancing down her own body, Moiraine noted her attire, or lack thereof. A sigh of relief escaped her when she realised she was at least still in her underwear. Her eyes flicked back to Siuan, the glimpse of a black bra strap peeking from under the white sheets solidified her belief.
That line had not been crossed. Good. It would have been a mistake, Moiraine reasoned, like this, while being drunk, while lingering over a past that refused to be buried.
The sense of relief Moiraine experienced soon dissolved as she sat there, unsure what to make of the situation at hand. It had been decades since they had last seen each other, since Siuan’s decision to end things between them. It had been for Moiraine’s own good, Siuan had claimed back then. It wasn’t even a lie, Moiraine knew she had been emotionally unavailable, too secretive, too consumed by the trauma. Siuan had begged her, wanted for them to move on, get over everything that had happened, together, to stop lingering on the past. It had not been that easy, though, and the breakup had pushed Moiraine into an even deeper hole than the one she had already been in.
“If you’ve ever loved me, don’t do this,” the memory echoed in her mind. She had begged Siuan, had begged her to reconsider, but it had been in vain. Moiraine felt the walls suddenly closing in, the memories pressing down on her, breaking her bones, one by one.
“Siuan, wake up. You have to leave,” Moiraine declared abruptly, offering no morning greeting or friendly smile.
Siuan stirred, her reaction slow, as if she were just untangling herself from a dream. With a half-hearted attempt to sit up, she wrapped the sheets around herself, her voice laced with a defensive sarcasm. “Well, good morning to you too.”
Moiraine was unimpressed by the biting retort. “This…us…,” she began, gesturing between them, “is a mistake. It just complicates everything.”
Siuan’s sleepy demeanour vanished, replaced by a look of confusion and emerging hardness. “So what? We just forget it happened? Ignore our feelings and move on as if nothing’s there?”
“You were the one who walked away!” Moiraine raised her voice, her pounding headache instantly flaring and punishing her for it. “What do you want from me, Siuan? Why did you come here? Do you want me to admit that I still have feelings for you? Confess that I haven’t moved on? How about I list you all the ways I’ve tried to erase you from my thoughts instead?”
“What about last night then, huh?” Siuan shot back, slicing through Moiraine’s defences. “When you said you still loved me? Was that a lie? Am I just another woman you want to mindlessly fuck, Moiraine?”
Moiraine was rendered speechless. Her blood turned to ice as she struggled to process Siuan’s piercing words. She tried to speak, even opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Her mind was racing to piece together a response, nearly sending itself into overdrive.
When no answer came for too long, Siuan rose from the bed, the sheets falling away as she began to dress. Moiraine could only watch, her heart in her throat. “Maybe it was a mistake,” Siuan murmured, so faintly it almost didn’t reach Moiraine.
Fully dressed now, she held out a card, eventually tossing it carelessly onto the bed when Moiraine made no move to take it. “If you ever want to talk about it, call me. Or don’t. Whatever.”
With that, Siuan left the room, the door falling shut with a definite bang, leaving Moiraine alone with her crushing thoughts. As Moiraine sat there, wrapped in the sheets that still held the warmth of their shared body heat, she couldn’t help but wonder if the risk of exploring what lay between them was worth the potential fallout.
It was Siuan’s final words, the hurt in her voice, that haunted Moiraine the most. She had pushed Siuan away with a fear that felt as vast as the wilderness they had once survived together. And yet, beneath that fear was a truth Moiraine had long buried, one that the night’s revelations had forced to the surface.
“I still do,” Moiraine admitted to the empty room, allowing the tears to blur her vision. “I still love you.”
The admission was too little, too late.
Or was it?