I want to be little again

Avacyn didn't say anything immediately when he tried to comfort her through her grief, and that was fine. Loss was always difficult to process, and a loss like this cut even more grievously to the heart. Alastor let his daughter take her time, let her sob her heart out until her eyes had no more tears left to give. The mountain of a wolf simply held her and remained a sturdy, stable support for his not-so-little girl to lean into until she had calmed herself down, one giant ebony paw stroking up and down her heaving back as she cried and cried, purging herself of the negative emotions weighing her soul down. Gradually her sobs began to die down, yet Alastor showed no signs of letting her go as much as Ava was clinging onto him. He didn't care if she spent all night like this and soaked his coat with her tears; he would not be letting go of her until she was good and ready.

Alastor just gave her all the time she needed. Eventually, he felt her shift and peeked down to spy Avacyn's matching obsidian eyes peeking up at him, and a loving smile stretched across his muzzle. "There's my little girl," he said with a chuckle, patting her back with his massive paw. Avacyn asked if Manea was mad or disappointed in a broken, hoarse whisper, and Alastor was swift to shake his head with an adamant assurance in his dark eyes. "No, sweetheart, she's not mod. She's worried. Her eldest daughter, her pride and joy, has just been through an awful, horrific experience. Your mother wants nothing more than to know you and Saracyn are okay and healthy. Nothing else matters to her—or to me." Al gently squeezed Ava in his arms, embracing her a little bit tighter while he nuzzled at her forehead with his snout. "...Are you okay, Ava? As okay as you can be, I mean. Irilyth said the process... was not pleasant or easy on you. You know, all the terrible things no parent ever wants to hear."

"Alastor Mendacium"