The Silence Between

Kassander curled around Sigmarr's limp form, clung desperately to him, keening his grief into the blood-stained pelt of his only brother. Wrenching sobs wracked his body until... a voice spoke his name gently and, gulping, he forced his head up to stare at the speaker. "Katja?" he asked in a voice gone hoarse. He stared at her uncomprehendingly for a moment before his gaze dropped once more to the quiescent form in his arms. He felt suddenly drained, empty, as though the viking's sudden appearance had suddenly removed from him the grief. It was still there, but a step removed, as though he were temporarily cocooned from it. He spoke in a dull voice, as much to himself as to the silent woman. "This is all my fault. If I hadn't been so stupid and trusting Sigmarr would never have needed to save me. If I hadn't been so weak and afraid I could have saved him. You were right, Katja. I'm not fit to lead Ebony. All I have ever caused as alpha has been death and heartache. All Ebony has ever brought my family is death and heartache!" The last was said on a sharp snarl that faded as quickly as it came. He raised his head to the viking's silver gaze once more, his expression lost and hurt, bewildered in his grief. "I don't want it anymore, Katja. I don't want it."