The Sentinels all hope in eclipse

The influx of his wolves, of his family, was not enough to steady his spirit. The witch could feel him waning, could feel the great tug and the shifts from one plane to the next. His words are nonsensical, the visions that he sees are not for them in the waking world. Somewhere beyond the expanse are their relatives, here to ferry him off - to steal him just as they had begun on their own path. Leaving her behind, leaving his daughters behind, it is selfish and it is inexcusable and the ashen woman feels herself still and cold for a moment. 

The storm overhead brews and the world lashes out, the taltos' spell broken over the lands that he so loved, over the family he so carefully cultivated. Drawn from her is a soft gasp, a feeling as it rushes through her the moment that the male shrugged off his mortal coil. He is not with them. He does not hear them. He did not hear her before and he will not hear her now. Not presently. Not with his daughter's wails, her mourning song, not with his pack so close to him and the news that would fly on the winds with the rains.

He had traded this life for the next. Rowan could not bare the child's anguish, but hers is fresh, it is new. She has not felt loss like this before. Rowan has - only months ago, burying her mother, her so called father. She can endure this, though it seems like an impossible task. Many things would be impossible to these wolves in the coming weeks and months. Rowan steps back, away from him as he stills and ceases to breathe. 

In the distance, she sees him, but he seems so happy for that moment - she cannot bear to call him back. The witch can wait.