Through the Fire and the Flame we Carry On

Only the subtle crunch of snow alerted Rhyme to his half-brother’s presence. The slate male might not have turned around he was so engrossed in his thoughts. Darilnor dominated them, though he tried hard to focus on his living pups and the futures they might find. The alpha turned his somber features towards Epitaph as the younger man halted close behind. The former slave had been invaluable in help with the two girls. Poem and Motif seemed to adore him, and Rhyme couldn’t help but feel the dark furred man loved them as well.


"Epitaph," he greeted softly. His voice distant but with a hint of warmth he felt for the scarred wolf. "How are the girls today?" He assumed that the younger man wouldn’t withhold pertinent information from him. Had there been an emergency he would already know about it. Though he wondered absently if Epitaph needed something from him, he doubted the young once slave would have the courage to ask outright. He was doing well in Abaven, but he hadn’t gotten to that point yet.