Too much history

He startled at the sudden, unexpected sound of a voice. The familiarity of it pricked at him, but it couldn’t be… he turned slowly, staring into the darkness the voice had spoken from. His paws still on the slowly rising smoke. “A bitter truth.” He said, narrowing his eyes into the darkness, and then the woman stepped forward. Her grey form as familiar as the lay of his pack lands. “Resin.” he said, swallowing hard. Resin was dead, she had fallen to madness, and been killed by invaders as she sought to save those that she loved - or perhaps just to lash out in the madness. Who could say? But she had protected those she had loved all the same. That was Resin, a wolf who gave her life for those she loved.

He blinked, still struggling to believe it was true. He stepped closer, reaching out a paw to touch her cheek. Feeling a surprising solidness beneath his paw. He blinked again, feeling the emotions threaten to cascade over him. “How?” he whispered, before she called his attention to the Obelisk. “Perhaps I did.” with this sickness came many strange things. He could not even say for certain if this was reality. “Many things, Resin. That I am still here when so many I loved are not.” His thoughts flitted again to Io. To Naiche, to Resin herself, and others that had left, if not through death, then by their own choice.


"Sirius Fatalis"