Neither of us moved for what felt like several minutes. Apart from the thundering of heartbeats, there were no sounds that I could hear. The booths seemed to be decently isolated from the rest of the building, but that created a heavy, stressful atmosphere. Although I could simply extend a paw and touch Agnes' leg, it felt like we weren't even in the same room. Getting increasingly annoyed by the silence, I gently mewled at Agnes to try to get her to react.

She got up.

"Let's go back," she simply said. "Are you feeling alright? Can you walk?"

I nodded with little enthusiasm, but that seemed to be sufficient for her. She grabbed her backpack, opened the door for me, and we left the room.

Agnes drove fast, if not recklessly, on the way home. I had never been nervous when in her car, but that time, I didn't feel too safe. Although she looked perfectly fine, I could tell that the doctor's speech earlier had hurt her, but I was hoping she could bounce back and our relationship would improve. If it didn't, that was probably the breaking point, and it wouldn't be long until she gave up on police school... or on me.

The thought made me shudder. I immediately felt a hand on my head, petting me gently. I barked joyfully, trying to communicate that I was feeling fine, so Agnes would focus on the road, but she didn't take her hand off of my head unless to change gears.

Surprisingly, we made it home without any accidents. I was rather happy to finally get out of the car and rushed to the building. Agnes followed slowly, and while I was going upstairs to Topa's room, she followed to her own, shut the door locked, and didn't show herself until dinner.

I found Topa by the river, pawing absently at the water, seemingly lost in thought. She didn't even notice me approaching and only realized I was there when I poked her with my muzzle. Her immediate reaction was to sniff at me once.

"You smell upset," she noticed.

"It's a long story," I replied, unwilling to talk.

I smelled her in return, but I was unable to tell how much better she was feeling. She still smelled as depressed as before, at least as far as I could tell.

"Are you feeling better?" I asked.

"I... am not sure," she confessed. "I have been thinking about what you said, but I do not know how to proceed."

"What do you mean?"

"You said I had to face my feelings, did you not?"

I nodded.

"How do I do that?" she asked.

I remained silent for a few seconds. Both Agnes and her seemed to have great trouble in expressing their emotions and had learnt to repress them from the start. That wasn't something I could imagine – how did anyone live without it?

If both Topa and Agnes were struggling with it, was Melissa also having trouble expressing herself? If so, could it be that they were never taught how to, or raised to believe they should never do it? Then the problem originally came from their parents, and it was likely I wouldn't be able to do too much to help them.

Topa was expectantly staring at me, waiting for an answer. I didn't know what to reply. How did one face their feelings? I felt like it was one of those things that I did without thinking about it. If a human asked me how I moved my tails, I would just shrug and reply "I just do it". It was the same thing to me when it came to facing my feelings. I didn't remember having trouble with them.

Then again... in my early days of being a vulpix, I seemed to have been stuck in a form of depression I couldn't get out of, but as hard as I thought about it, I was unable to tell exactly when I started getting better. It just happened on its own, probably as I was getting a better hang of my situation and finally having the freedom to face my feelings.

"I... I'm not sure," I eventually replied. "Give me time to think about it."

"Sure!" she replied with enthusiasm.

Although she was still rather depressed, it made me happy to see that she was able to be enthusiastic or joyful again. There definitely was progress since she talked about her son, and I hoped she was on the right track to getting better.

My ears and tail dropped immediately as I was reminded that I now had another relation to work through: my friendship with Agnes. Was it even friendship? Pride was the first to emit doubt, and Belish was now sharing them. Even Agnes herself seemed to have silently agreed that she didn't consider me a friend. How was I supposed to take it? Had she always been aware of it, or was she nodding in realization? If she already knew, then it was likely our relationship would never improve, as it would be something she was consciously doing, but if she had not realized, I knew there was hope – assuming Agnes managed to bounce back and get better.

"Let us go back," Topa said, stretching. "Dinner should be served soon."

I followed without replying. I didn't think I would be able to actively work on fixing Topa and on my relationship with Agnes, and I had to make a choice. The best solution would probably be to help Topa first, then let her improve her situation and introspect on her own, as there was little my input could do for that, and work with Agnes while the ninetales was busy sorting herself out.

During dinner, Agnes seemed like she was perfectly fine. Her behaviour hadn't changed a bit, but I could tell she was simply hiding her feelings in order not to worry anyone – assuming her parents would worry at all considering what they did to her in her childhood. As far as I could tell, even Topa was fooled by my trainer's remarkable composure, and although she knew that I was myself upset, she had the kindness not to prod further into it. Once she was done eating, Agnes withdrew to her room. That was unusual, as she would normally spend some time watching TV, or at least the news, but nobody seemed to care about it, probably assuming that she was simply tired.

I sighed as I watched her climb the stairs quietly, not even looking back to check my reaction. I decided to go with my plan to focus on Topa first, thinking that Agnes would need time to sort her own feelings, if she knew how to, while Topa was in need of immediate help and had even expressed it clearly. I followed her back to the river, where we laid in the sand, pawing lazily at the cold water in silence.

I had never realized how quiet this place could be. The sound of running water seemed to add to the silence rather than disturb it, and other than distant sounds of birds chirping and leaves whistling, there was no noise that came to disturb the peace. The stream's water had the same scent as the lake we were in, and I was only beginning to understand why Topa liked this place. It was just as peaceful as that withdrawn sanctuary we had defiled, but much closer to the house, and made me feel like my current emotional turmoil was weighing a lot less than I knew it was.

"Can I ask you a question?" Topa inquired.

"Sure," I replied, not looking up from the water.

"What does it mean to face one's feelings?"

I stopped pawing at the river and looked at her. She looked strangely peaceful, but there was still some sadness in her eyes. She was actively trying to heed my advice, which made me immensely happy, but didn't seem to be able to fully understand it, and she was asking for directions.

"It's like... not lying to yourself. Sometimes you're simply trying to tell yourself you're good, when in reality you're well aware you're not, but you don't want to admit you're not because you feel like it's wrong."

"Could you develop? How does this apply to me?"

"Let's see..."

I took some time to think. I could potentially hurt her with my reply, and I needed to avoid doing so, but I also needed to tell her the truth, as that was the only way I could help her. Bringing more avoidance would be counterproductive, but being too direct would be hurtful. I had to be careful.

"Let me ask you something too," I eventually said. "It's... part of my explanation. I need you to reply with your gut feeling – don't think, just say whatever first comes to mind."

"I will try."

"How do you feel about... your son's disappearance?"

As expected, she marked a pause during which I could clearly see pain in her eyes. However, as she promised, she replied quickly.

"I am sad, but I can live with it."

"Continue?"

"Um..."

She made a frowning expression, as if focusing, and didn't reply.

"See?" I said. "This, right there."

"Pardon?"

"You can't go further than that. Like your brain doesn't let you think about it more. Whenever you try, it's like you can't think anymore. You get distracted, or you get stuck at simply thinking what you said."

"That is correct," she replied, surprised.

"That's how you face your feelings. You revoke that block, you allow yourself to dig further. It's hard to do on your own, that's why people visit therapists. They can break that wall, and once it's broken, you can go think further. Once you've identified your feelings, you can face them."

"How?"

I shook my head.

"We aren't there yet. You have to break that wall."

Topa looked at the sand, then the water, and eventually turned her head to me.

"Alright," she said, full of resolve. "Will you be my therapist?"

I was taken by surprise by the question.

"Sure," I managed to utter. "I've never done it, but... I'll try."

"Thank you," she smiled. "So, how does it work?"

"How does what work?"

"Therapy."

I reflected on it for a moment.

"We... talk. You talk about your feelings, and I give you ideas of where to go, and we keep talking that way until something clicks."

Topa looked into the water again.

"I'm sad," she eventually repeated.

"I know."

I sighed.

"Let's look at it logically for now," I suggested. "You told me you had no psychic powers because you didn't want me to learn them, right?"

Topa nodded.

"That means you are scared of me learning them."

"If you learn to use your powers, is there not a risk that you open the gate and also disappear?" she confirmed.

"Why would I do that?"

"I do not know. That... is how I feel."

She looked puzzled, almost lost, as if this exploring her feelings were completely new to her. I wasn't too sure where to go from there myself, and took time to think. It was obvious to me that she was being crushed by guilt, and her speech from when she told me about her son confirmed it, but it felt like she had completely forgotten about it.

"I think you're feeling guilty," I eventually said. "You think it's your fault. Your reasoning probably goes something like: if you hadn't taught him to use his powers, he wouldn't have been able to open that gate."

She nodded.

"I am aware of that."

"You say you're aware, but do you accept it? To me, it feels like you're trying not to feel guilty."

"I do not understand," she admitted after a pause.

"You don't accept that you're feeling guilty, you're trying to convince yourself you aren't. There's nothing wrong with feeling guilty, but you have to face it. You have to accept that you think that's your fault. That doesn't mean it is your fault."

"Is it my fault?"

She looked at me with the saddest eyes I had ever seen. The guilt was eating her from the inside, and she was simply looking for redemption. She wanted me to say it wasn't, that she had done nothing wrong, and that I forgave her – but the important part was that she forgave herself, which she obviously wasn't ready to do. She had to learn to move on, and not be haunted by her son's death anymore, but I had no idea how to achieve that. I also needed to be extremely careful – one wrong word and I could send her directly back into depression; one she might possibly never come out of.

"I don't think so," I eventually replied, carefully choosing my words. "I don't think the fact your son could use his psychic powers was a factor at all. Given how upset he was, he would have found another way to exit the gardens."

I blinked, coming to a sudden realization.

"Wait, how are you even certain he used his powers to open the gate himself? How can you tell there wasn't anyone that opened it for him, or that it wasn't already open?"

Her expression changed drastically as she realized the consequences of what I had just said.

"I do not know. We simply found the gate open, and I thought he opened it himself."

I frowned.

"I think you simply jumped to conclusions because of the shock. Also, this kind of proves my point, doesn't it?"

"What do you mean?"

"That it wasn't your fault."

She stared at me again, and I could see the sadness disappear from her eyes, being replaced by a form of hope I wasn't familiar with. All this time she had been suffering for no good reason, blaming herself by default because she had no alternative theory. However, her hope was short-lived and her eyes returned to the despair they were showing previously.

"I still am at least partially responsible, am I not?"

"Why?" I asked, genuinely surprised.

Topa remained silent for a minute.

"I am trying to think about it logically," she eventually replied. "If it turns out he did use his powers to open the door or the gate, then I am definitely responsible. If it is not the case, then I think I am to blame for his reaction."

"You weren't the one that sent him away," I corrected.

"No, indeed. He was scolded by Ma'am after trying to open the forbidden door, and ran away as a result. He had never been scolded before."

"Did you warn him against the door?"

"Yes, I did. I should probably have been more stern about it."

"So you feel like you failed to warn him properly?"

She looked at the floor, drowning in guilt, and nodded silently. I came up to her, licked her forehead, and hugged her.

"You've learnt from that, then. I won't get anywhere near that door."

She nodded, then opened her muzzle as if to speak, but couldn't. I noticed she was silently crying and trying to hide it. I looked her in the eye and licked her tear.

"Don't worry. One important part of facing one's feelings is learning from them. And you've obviously learnt from that one. You can forgive yourself. You're not going to make the mistake again."

"Is that what facing one's feelings means? To forgive oneself?"

"That's a part of it."

She frowned, thoughtful.

"Alright," she eventually whispered. "I forgive myself, then. I will not repeat the mistake."

Although she sounded convincing, I wasn't sure if she truly meant it. Time would tell, but for now, I was happy with the progress we were making.

"There is something else," she eventually confessed.

"Tell me."

"What if I was a bad mother?"

The question caught me by surprise. I had no idea what being a good mother meant, as I had never had trouble with mine, and I certainly didn't expect a fox to be asking that sort of question.

"Why do you think that?"

"He ran away instead of coming to me for comfort," she explained.

I had a hard time answering that one. I wasn't sure what to tell her to comfort her, as I understood her worry.

"You know, I don't think kids generally go to their mother for comfort. When I was a kid I went to my mother when I needed something from her or when I was scared, for protection. When I was crying, I either sat in place or ran away from whatever made me cry. Also, if Ma'am was the one who made him upset, he was probably trying to get away from people he loved in general for fear that they would upset him more."

"That makes no sense to me," she replied.

"Think of it like this," I hazarded. "He went to the door, and possibly got scared. He was caught by Ma'am who started yelling at him. That would have definitely scared him, but it was a person he loved who scared him."

Topa nodded.

"I understand so far."

"So... he would likely have tried to go to you first, but then changed his mind as he remembered Ma'am was yelling at him and he would be scared you would have as well. Then he'd simply be looking for somewhere to hide."

She nodded again.

"That makes sense. If he thinks he could not be protected, he would have been hiding."

"However," I kept explaining, "there was nowhere in the house or the gardens he could hide safely. Ma'am and you could have found him easily, and your scents were still all over the place, right? So he was constantly reminded of what was scaring him at the time."

There was a short silence, during which Topa stared at the water, thoughtful.

"He made the decision to get away from the mansion's limits because he thought he would not be safe in it?" she asked.

"Possibly, yes. Once he was outside, he probably hid somewhere until he calmed down."

"How did he make his way to the Glossy Forest then?"

"No idea. Instinct? Where do wild vulpix normally live?"

"I am not sure," she admitted. "My family has been domesticated for a very long time, and there are no wild vulpix around here."

"Either way, that one really isn't your fault. It's how kids react."

She nodded silently. It would take her some time to think it through, but I was hoping she'd get better eventually and be able to forgive herself.

"After he left," she continued, "he didn't show up until dinner. That was when Ma'am became worried and we searched the house and the gardens. As I said before, I had no trouble tracking him to the forest. And then, we found his slashed, bloody collar."

She seemed to have more composure than when she first told me the story, which was a good sign, but I could tell it was difficult for her.

"Ma'am simply... broke, at that point. It was like watching a balloon deflate. She lost all her energy and simply ordered us to go back to the mansion."

She shook her head.

"I wonder if we could have found him if we had insisted. Maybe we could have saved him."

I put a paw on her head.

"You can't think like that, Topa, that's not helping. If his collar was slashed, he was probably attacked at the neck. It takes a couple minutes to die from a neck wound. By the time you reached the forest..."

I stopped. I couldn't bring myself to say those words in front her.

"He would have been dead," she finished. "I understand, logically, but I cannot stop thinking about it. What if..."

I slapped the top of her head.

"Stop that! What ifs will never take you anywhere. They're the reason why you've been feeling so bad!"

She stared at me, confused.

"Focus on what happened," I continued. "He was scared and upset, so he ran away. You don't know how he got past the gate, but he did, and found his way to the forest, where he was attacked."

I stopped to check on her reaction. She was still silently crying, but there was a flicker of defiance in her eyes that indicated she was actively listening and trying to fix her guilt issue.

"Also, the way I see it, even if by a stretch that was your fault, you've made amends for it."

"How do you mean?"

"The way to deal with guilt is by making amends, right? Well, you see... You felt guilty about not warning him properly about the door, but you warned me about it and I listened. You lectured me when I went to sniff it, but I never ran away, did I? I stayed with you.

And you've been amazingly good to me. Too good, even, to the point of hurting yourself. Even after I told you I was human you continued being kind to me and helping me with everything. You were..."

I hesitated as a knot formed in my stomach.

"… you are like a mother to me."

After a second of fighting herself, Topa broke down and started crying loudly, burying her head in my chest and scooping her whole body to be closer to mine. I laid by her side, covering what I could with my tails, and gently petted her, allowing her to cry to her heart's content. It was difficult for me not to join her in crying, but I felt like this was her moment and I had no right to intrude.

Trying to help her made me realize something. She and I had a lot in common, but for different reasons. By turning into a vulpix, I had lost everything, including all the things and the people I was holding dear. Topa also had lost everything she was holding dear – her son had died, and after that, the whole human family started acting more distant and would not allow themselves to grieve. Topa and I had both been starved for affection, and in spite of that, she had found the strength in herself to give me all the love I needed – I had simply been blind to it. It wasn't only Topa – Ilma, Pico and even Pride to some extent had been trying to be friendly to me, but I was pushing them away for fear that they might find out what I really was. On her side, Agnes was doing the same – carefully avoiding to form a proper relationship with me while I was avoiding to form a relationship with her.

I knew how to tackle the relationship issue I had with Agnes, but it would require being able to communicate efficiently with her. For the time being, however, I was simply cuddling with Topa, who was finally coming to terms with herself and allowing her emotions out. For the first time in many days, I felt like I was emotionally at peace, despite the problems I was about to face, and I was hoping Topa would feel the same. We had both gained something new from this situation, and most importantly, were both ready to accept it – a family.