These small hours

It was a cloudy morning when the Warlord stepped out of the Armada territory, and let his paws wonder. It wasn’t often that he went far from the Armada these days. His tether to the pack had gotten tighter and tighter as he aged, and changed, and adapted. Now, it was about to break free and he wondered what his life was going to look like without the everyday routines he was so accustomed to.

He missed his son. The one to whom the Armada was supposed to go to. But Azure had vanished, and he did not think he would ever see the boy again. He missed his Wife, who he had thought would be at his side to the end of his days. But he was growing old without her, and he was stepping away from the pack that they had made together. Melancholy shaped his thoughts as he let his steps take him, without thought, through the towering trees.