silver is the grip on the helping hand

He only knew she was putting him down by the feel of the snow beneath him again. He couldn't see past the tears that streamed down his face. Weak, foolish, child. This was the child that had caused the death of a great wolf. The strongest Strai had ever known. He didn't pull away when Bylgja wrapped a paw around him, he didn't fight her. When she rested her chin against his head it was awkward, unfamiliar, and comforting. 


He wrapped his paws around his face, trying to stifle his tears. "I don't understand this world. None of it makes sense any more" he said, hiccuping as he spoke. It had been a long time since he had felt so young and vulnerable. He'd felt less vulnerable and weak when he had run from his parents' killers.