Redhawk Caldera out of feathers out of bones.

Fin could not abscond herself of the blame, which she knew well enough to not fight against. She had chosen to leave him in his darkest hour on purpose thinking it would have the greatest effect on him and perhaps truly force him to change. She was careless with his sickness and his emotions, and selfish in her desire to change him to suit her with no thought to the consequences of how she went about it. He had not deserved to die in such a way. He was an asshole, but he did not deserve to die feeling friendless and without hope.

Elwood's voice brought her back to the present. She looked at him quietly, feeling exhausted and empty. It should have been a relief to pull the weight of the secret off of herself, but it was only a minor comfort. It was good to finally be honest with her mate, but it was a small thing in comparison to the guilt of what had happened. It was something she would never be free from, and somewhere along the way, Fin had accepted that. She'd never fully been conscious of it until then, and maybe even now saying that was still a bit of a stretch. But nonetheless, it was there, both painful and peaceful.

But Colt had always been that gaping hole, and Elwood seemed to understand all of that perfectly. Fin said nothing but snuggled back into him, laying her head upon the ground. She breathed a tired sigh, feeling the pull of sleep. She kept it at bay and after a few minutes, said softly, "I wanted to get the den ready."