Greatwater Lake each morning I get up, I die a little

He saw Murdock's expression change and retreated a little, like a turtle into its shell. Surely if his brother had shared the same sort of heartbreak, he didn't want to relive it all over again, right? Nevertheless, Mur settled in for the story, so Shale supposed he could give him the short and not-so-sweet version. Maybe it would hurt less, to keep it brief.

"It was a quick courtship; we were married very soon, not even a moon after we had met. She had no family, and I had no desire to go home. So we carved out a life for ourselves in the mountains."

It was the absolute best of times for Shale, then. Exploring, hunting, making love. She was pregnant by late fall and gave birth to the pups in the midst of winter. Perhaps that had been a mistake.

"We had four babies--two boys, two girls." Shale thought of giving voice to their names but his words stuck in his throat, choking him suddenly. No. . .they would remain unnamed to all but him now. Him, and her. "They were beautiful. Perfect. The building blocks for the pack we were to build."

But a disease struck suddenly, affecting only the herd of elk that brought so much life to the valley. Animal after animal fell victim, and wolves began turning to the small game for sustenance. It wasn't long before overhunting whittled away the rabbit and squirrel population as well. Shale and Lucy thought of leaving, but it was too dangerous a journey to undergo with four small pups, their eyes barely open.

"She was starving, and her milk didn't come," he murmured, seeing vividly now her wasted teats, the outline of her ribs against her sleek brown pelt. "One by one. . .they died. And we left, to find food. . .and she died, too." His words, hollow with finality, rang through the silent air, the only sound save the winter wind.