Dead hearts are everywhere

Winter was in full swing, and Alamea knew she could put it off no longer. She had held out as long as she could rising every morning and waiting patiently for her mate’s familiar form to rise up on the horizon. Every night she had crawled into her den, gathered up her pups and did her best to hide her disappointment, to mask the sound of her heart breaking a little more each night. Now though? Well her son was sick and she couldn’t do this on her own, even with Keiki and Eirik there to help she knew she would need something better, a pack.

The trek hadn’t been easy, she and her older children had taken turns carrying Icarius and cycling between gently nudging Sarai forwards and carrying her when she grew to tired. All the while she had done her best to remain aware of the scents they passed in search of Warja’s scent. She would make a house call soon enough, always the worrying mother. Elliot had taken a brief detour scouting in the direction of her smallest child’s path, though he too had finally joined the small parade, nestling between her shoulder blades as he usually did. Finally though they had made it to the pack she had chosen.