"Bran?" A quiet voice called from the landing. He heard her soft steps as she came and sat down beside him on the floor. She was close, almost touching, but to his great relief she left that small space. If he let go now, he wouldn't be able to hold on to her, the small piece of Blue Jay Woman that was left. He heard Jessica sigh. Bran looked at her. She sat with her knees tucked up close to her chest. Her chin rested on her knees, her gaze distant and lost to the flames.
"Do you know God, Bran" Jessica asked? Bran was startled at the question. He could feel her in his mind; he knew she felt what he felt. Why would she ask that? Was she, this small child, about to give him a lesson in life? Mentally he scoffed at her. But still he answered.
"Yes" Was all he gave her. His pain suddenly became more than he could bear. Her presence didn't allow him the safety of tucking these emotions away again. She drew them out to the fore, because the wolf was quiet in her presence he could not hide behind it, behind the rage. He willed his pain into anger. Anger was rich and fulfilling, anger he could deal with, anger he knew. Jessica glanced at him from the corners of her eyes. He caught it, concern…for him.
"Why do you not trust Him then?" she asked. For a brief moment he was taken off guard by the question, but that was replaced by a bitter anger he hadn't realized was there. That was it; he let his anger boil over, dripping like acid from his tongue. His beast surging forward to protect what was his, and Bran, his will stronger than ever, pushing it back made his eyes flare gold. He could not fathom her boldness, and was furious. He told her so. Angry words poured out like a hot caress, centuries of time to learn just the right ways to make them stick. Jessica for all that she was terrified, sat still, save the trembles of fear, watching the flames. He wanted to make her look at him, so she could see just how angry he was, but didn't dare touch her for fear of the damage he could unleash upon her. He had tried one last time, to push her away. When he was done, he was exhausted.
Panting he said, "Say something, you certainly haven't minded thus far!" But she sat silent, and thought. He could see her trembling, and she hugged her legs just a bit tighter than looked comfortable. Her eyes betrayed her, streaming tears like rivers. In that moment, he was certain he had lost her, and that realization brought with it a bitter satisfaction that was more familiar to him than the quiet peace she usually brought with her. There was no trace of that now, she was bottled up so tight he would have sworn she was a mundane human had he only have known this part of her. A small fleeting sadness, whispered through his heart at that. She waited a time longer, and soon Bran found himself completely out of steam, undoubtedly what she was waiting for. Drained he plopped himself on one of the couches, and cradled his face in his hands. He couldn't understand why, when he was around her, he was as raw as he was. Control was there, but no over his human heart, that he had bathed in the rage of the beast, in order to survive. He was fearful with her, he would be forced to feel this way always, how could anyone survive that?
Mercifully she spoke.
"It seems to me that the God we both know would never turn His back on the pain of His children. He too wept." Her voice shook with the fear of drawing his anger again. She paused, and as if hearing a soft whisper she turned her head to the side. Bran watched a small soft smile spread across her face, the trembles that had once wracked her body stopped. Peace like a tidal wave rushed through the room, and set Bran's thoughts to silence faster than anything else could have. "He is yours, and you are His. You know it to be truth, yet you hide your heart away from the Healer, the Creator of all things to include stubborn werewolves. Your Alpha" She chuckled as if she was enjoying a privet joke, and then an inquisitive look filled her face. She looked at him then, apprising him like she hadn't before.
"Is that what you call yourself Bran Cornick? Werewolf? He calls you my beloved." She said the last with a look that a wise woman would give to her pupil. Blue Jay woman often gave him that look. She rose from her place on the floor, walked over to Bran, kissed his forehead, and whispered in his ear.
"Don't be alone tonight. When you are ready, come to me." She quietly left the room; Bran listened for the soft sound of the door as she shut it tight. Once he was sure he was alone, he sat back down on the floor and prayed as he gazed into the fire once again. His offering was all the pain, worry, and fear he had held deep in his heart for so long. He had the feeling this offering was one of the best he had given in his long long life. He gave the burden away, for the briefest of moments, and what was returned to him, was a load not any less light, but somehow more manageable. He tried to bar the small nudging at the corners of his mind. His wolf, he thought, was his, and only his. Fear surged, as the thought of being alone with his wolf came to the fore of his thoughts. The memories of the dead, their faces, raced through his mind. So many, he destroyed so many. Blue Jay Woman, was that his punishment; unbearable pain, like that of which he caused to so many before? The oppression of it, almost more than he could bear, suddenly, became a plea. Bran, in his own way, cried out deep inside his heart. He opened it all up, and found as before, that the love of His God brought healing and forgiveness. He thought to himself, that this healing would be slower than the wounds silver could bring. Bran decided that he would appreciate it more this way. Some wounds needed to heal slowly from the inside out. Anything else would cause a scar, and festering infections below the surface. For now he buttoned himself back up, and took a deep breath. Suddenly his mind caught up with him, and he remembered what Jessica had said. She had called him a werewolf. He smelt the truth in her question afterwards too. She really didn't know that's what he was. If that wasn't conviction enough, nothing would be, and what had she said…he was beloved. Bran found that he already had known that to be truth, and was pleased with it.