Bearclaw Valley i. philosophia

Alexander was not there to see his wife leave, was not there to see the child that trailed along with her. He’d been away from the den, per his usual routine, making his rounds throughout the territory and ensuring the safety of his children and all those others that the valley housed—he was happy to do so, to watch over his family and pack mates both, feeling completed by doing so. Things were, for once in his life, seeming as if they were looking up; he had children to call his own, even if some of them he was not yet permitted to see regularly, a wife, a home—friends, even. It felt strange to admit it, really, that he was alone no longer. He’d let others in, allowed them to get friendly with him, and he, in turn, had given them his care; it would always feel peculiar and his heart might always ache but, for the first time since her passing, he felt as if he’d brought some semblance of honour to Kendra’s memory.

Satisfied with his doings, the albino carried on towards the whelping den, intending to spend some time with his wife and their children. Yet, upon arriving, she and Yakone were nowhere to be seen; their scents were recent, still, but led away from their little home. Curious, he trailed after the scents, though the closer he got to the valley’s exit, the more his heart sank. Panic set in and he sped up, seeking his wife and daughter, searching for something that might put his mind at ease—

—but to do so was not an easy task, for history would always repeat itself. There existed those in the world that simply weren’t meant to be happy, nor to have those they could trust at their side; some individuals existed just to be abandoned, time and time again.

It was a curse bestowed upon Alexander long before his birth, for never would he be great enough to hold those he cared for close enough to have them stay.