Phoenix Maplewood death becomes us all

Too caught up in the tornado of emotion that made his head spin, Artyom failed to consider the strong possibility of others being drawn to the scent of fresh blood. When the sound of fast approaching paws brought awareness flooding back, the pale leader flagged his tail and swung his head in the direction of a she-wolf as she arrived, though muscles slackened upon recognising her.

Aphrodite rushed in, an urgeny to her stride as she quickly moved to their fallen comrade. The ranger could do nothing but watch helplessly as she pawed at the gored, lifeless body of a wolf who'd been his friend, before he stepped forward carefully.

"His name was Salvatore," he told her, a waver to his voice as he came to stand at his pack-mate's flank. Earthen gaze lingered on Sal's dull eye for only a moment before he turned his face away, "we will bury him here." Artyom wished to take him back to the stream, for him to rest among the pale foliage where he'd made his home, but it did not seem appropriate considering his body's condition.

No, the maplewood would serve as his memorial, and Artyom shifted away to seek out the best grave site.