Dawnlark Plains no, they won't be home tonight

She pressed against him, and the smallest flame rose within him, a tiny bit of warm comfort. Amidst all the ice that had settled in his body, it felt good. He breathed in her scent, so familiar and yet changed now, as the puppies grew within her. Their pups. His pups.

Grayday had wanted him and Pema to be together. Their last full conversation had been about the matter, with him letting down his brother. Now he'd never know--Day would never play with his children, nor smirk in the background as he and Pema cuddled. The idyllic future he'd imagined for them all was gone. Well, not gone. But changed, just as Pema's scent had.

"I'm sorry," Shale said, not knowing whether he was speaking to Pema or Grayday. He hung his head. "I miss you." Again, an ambiguous statement.

But as he lifted his head to look at his mate, the fog that had settled over his eyes had somewhat lifted, and he saw her clearly for the first time in days. Not a shadow, rendered insignificant by Grayday's passing. Pema. Beautiful, radiant, mother-to-be Pema. He'd spent so much time fretting over bringing his brother back to life that he'd forgotten about those still alive--and those yet to come.

"I'm sorry," he said again, this time meaning it only for her, his gaze holding hers.