Stone Circle Every story has its scars

Speaking of Scarlett brought back memories, good and bad; he missed her terribly, the ache in his chest settled even before the anger of grief faded. He often wondered how life would have turned out, both for himself and his children, had he stayed—but the past was far behind them all now, and he knew it was something that he must live with. “I think she would have loved it here, too,” he said, a trace of a smile playing across his lips. “Easthollow is what she always wanted: a family. I think she would be proud of you for achieving her dream.” He certainly was. After all, it was something that he was never able to do himself.

At the mention of helping with the children, he could not help but chuckle. “I can picture your mother helping with your children,” he mused. “She would have been so happy helping them grow.” And she would have done a wonderful job at it, too—the proof of that stood before him now. “I don’t think I can do the same as well as she would have been able to, but I wouldn’t mind helping,” he offered. “As long as they are okay with it.” He expected there to be plenty of other things that they would rather do than hang around with some old wolf but, nevertheless, his offer was made.

“I couldn’t imagine being anywhere else,” he told her. “It took a long time but… I think I’ve found my final home here with you and your family.” The call of the north faded from his heart more and more each day—and, eventually, it would linger no longer, replaced by the faces of his family.