Through the Fire and the Flame we Carry On

Rhyme’s ears pressed further into his skull as he winced at Epitaph’s sympathetic whine. Rhyme knew how much he cared about Poem and Motif, they lived in such proximity he was often a default caretaker. He wondered if his potential half-brother had even met the other three surviving pups. He gave voice to those same condolences, and Rhyme felt him lean in just a little bit closer. The slate alpha sighed softly, musing quietly as Epitaph offered what comfort he could with only words and his thin frame.

”It’s hard, not being able to watch him grow up.” He muttered as his paw swept over the grave in an affectionate gesture. Death was very much a part of life, but Rhyme had never been very good at dealing with the loss when it was someone he cared about. Especially this deep loss of his own legacy.