Because Friday is black for me

While he tended to stick to Valhalla most of the time, he did venture out now and then to scout, stretch his aging muscles and joints, and gain a breather.

He’d made his way to the Dancefloor this time, mostly wandering where his paws took him, occasionally pausing to traverse a more precarious point in his pathway before continuing on. He shouldn’t let himself think. Grieve, yes, but if he thought of all that he’d lost, he knew he’d grow bitter with it all.

There was still so much to live for, a future he wanted to see before he could no longer hold on to the living realm. He was determined to see it through.

His absent gaze fell upon a hunched form ahead and, hearing the hitch in the wolf’s breathing, he padded slowly forward, ears perking as he caught the familiarity in the scent of the man. Family. His eyes softened, concern prickling his coat as he called out gently, “Are you alright?”

There was no blood scent, but the man was clearly hurting.