Phoenix Maplewood It was inevitable.

While he kept to no concrete schedule, Reek tried to check in on Scarlett and Saena at least three times a day, usually with meat in tow for the two wolves to share (though, lately it had been mainly Saena who ate his offerings). There was little variance to his loose schedule, and while the exact time differed each and every day, he tried to check in once in the morning, once in the afternoon, and one final time at nightfall, where he would drop off their daily ration and tend to their wounds in every way he could before retiring for the night under the stars and above his subterranean hideaway.

He was in the process of making his second round of the day.  Carried in his jaw he dragged the upper thigh of a moose the pack had felled and cached days prior.  Clinging to the meat was mixture of frost and dirt, but food was food, and he knew both his girls would be greatful. It was an awkward, backwards shuffle all the way back to the den/infirmary, but he was close.  His progress, however, was impeaded with the sound of a somber howl coming from one of Scarlett's children.  Reek's heart hitched in his chest; he knew the howl could only mean one thing. He had failed. Scarlett had slipped away.

Immediately, denial set in. Reek let go of the thigh and took off towards his den. He needed to see for himself, or else he'd never believe it. Upon arrival, he saw Desna weeping near the mouth of the den, but he pushed foward into the entrance without a word.  There, he found her alone.  Still and devoid of all life.  She would be the second friend he would he would have to bury this year.  Her death was another chink in Reek's already broken emotional armor.  But suprisingly, he held it together. No tears fell, at least, not yet.

He left the den and settled against the child's side.  "I'm so sorry," he whispered, voice dripping with sorrow. "I coudn't save her."