Penumbra often denied the existence of her heart, because she feared compassion would prevent her from avenging her mother, but now that Monsanto had left her, she was sure that there was something in her core, because it was breaking. Her sorrow, however, paled in comparison to her shame. Not only had she devoted her life to a misguided vendetta, but she had also allowed herself to latch onto the love of a man who had essentially caused her grief in the first place, further proving how deluded she was. No matter how much she tried to justify her actions, she now understood that from the very start, she didn't know what she was doing. She had been so desperate to rectify the crimes inflicted upon her people that she very nearly destroyed them. Thank god for Claire. She was right all along, as much as Penumbra hated to admit it. For this reason, she owed her an apology, but she probably wouldn't go through with one. There was no doubt that Claire would at least consider accepting it, but Penumbra was sure that she couldn't organize her thoughts in a coherent way. She might very well end up sobbing uncontrollably, which was not helpful for anyone. She much preferred the quiet approach, which involved basking in her own shame until she could figure out what to do next. There was no end game for that endeavor either, but it was all she could hope for right now.

Although Penumbra's heart was, as previously mentioned, breaking, she felt a glimmer of something quite different when she saw the stegoceratopses rising over the waves. They poured onto the beach, free at last, and Penumbra's chest fluttered. It was not a sense of accomplishment, nor was it a sense of guilt, and it was certainly not pride, but the emotion had echoes of these feelings. She could not put her sentiments into words, but at the very least, she knew that her people were free, and that was good.

So began the long march. The stegoceratopses who had died over the course of hundreds and hundreds of years traveled down the beach as a herd, seemingly with no end. Penumbra was moving in the opposite direction. Every once in a while, an outlier would laugh and ask her if she knew she was headed the wrong way, but she never replied. Eventually, though, she stopped, then turned around to join them. She lumbered among her brothers and sisters, none of whom knew who she was or what she had done. Maybe it was better that way. She could melt into the herd, become nothing more than a number, forget her identity . . . Yes, perhaps that would be wise. She didn't want to stand out, for fear that she would once again try to improve the world, only to fail miserably as she had done before.

The idea of being no one was alluring, but suddenly, Penumbra caught sight of a familiar set of plates swaying in the masses. She wasn't sure if she was seeing them correctly at first, but she moved towards the center of the herd, and her marching evolved into a jog, and her jog evolved into a gallop, and by the time she was only a few feet away, she had no doubt that she was not mistaken.

"MOTHER!"

The stegoceratops turned.

"Penny? Penny!"

They slammed together in a desperate embrace, sobbing as they met. The others wove around them, understanding that the reunion was too important to interrupt. Penumbra buried her face in her mother's chest, gasping.

"Mama, Mama . . ."

Her mother sat back on her haunches and held her, just as she had so many year ago.

"Penny! I was starting to think that I'd never see you again! You must have lived a good, long life to have stayed away for so long!"

Penumbra gulped.

"I . . . I lived a long life, but it was not a good one."

Her mother put her front foot under Penumbra's chin.

"Sweetheart . . ."

"It was my own fault," she choked, "I screwed up. I'm sorry, Mama. I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?"

"Sorry for not being able to save you. I wanted your death to mean something, to not be in vain, but-"

Her mother clicked her tongue.

"Oh, Penny. You don't have to worry about that. I died to save you. That's reason enough."

Penumbra watched the stegoceratopses marching towards the misty horizon. She hunched her shoulders and wrapped her tail around her legs.

"Oh, Mama . . . The things I've done . . ."

She closed her eyes as tightly as she could manage.

"I was so stupid, Mama. You saved my life, and I threw it away in the name of hatred and vengeance. I'm a bad person."

Her mother rocked her back and forth, stroking her frill tenderly.

"No, no . . . You're not a bad person, Penny."

She sniffled.

"I am, Mama, I am. I want to make things right again, but that's how I went wrong last time . . ."

"Sweetie, it's okay. Whatever you've done, I'll forgive you. People make mistakes."

"But my mistakes are big ones."

"Then you have to make a big apology. There's no use in calling yourself a bad person, Penny, because you're not. As long as you acknowledge your mistakes and try to make things right, you're not a bad person."

"How can I make things right, Mama?"

"That, I cannot tell you. But if you're really upset about this, and you know what you did wrong, I think you'll find that you have the answer. It may not be easy, but nothing in life ever is."

Penumbra took a deep breath. Her mother nodded to the herd, which was beginning to thin out.

"Come on, Penny. Let's not get left behind."

She lumbered away, but Penumbra did not follow. Instead, she looked up at the castle, which was beginning to crumble. It would be a matter of hours before the worlds split apart forever. Theoretically, she could leave with all the other stegoceratopses, but that would be easy. Too easy, in fact. While a part of her wanted to believe that she could live happily ever after by escaping the Beneath, the wiser part of her knew that it was only a temporary solution. Fleeing this place would not liberate her, because she was even now denying another urge, one that defied all logic. But it was real. It was real, and it was up to her to pursue it. That was her true purpose.

Penumbra broke away from the herd with regret, but kept a firm face.

"Mama, there's something I need to do."

"Can't it wait until we're out?"

Penumbra shook her head.

"I'm sorry, Mama. Go with the others. I don't want to lose you again."

She dashed away, and her mother gave a worried bellow.

"Penny! . . ."

"I'll be back, Mama, I promise!"

She tumbled into the forest. The soil shifted, but this only prompted her to run faster. As she landed on the other side of a fallen log after a particularly daring leap, she opened her beak and trumpeted, startling a flock of metal birds.

"Monsanto! Monsanto!"