Stone Circle Well, I've been afraid of changing

Four weeks old. Oh, still babies, she agreed lovingly. She was sure they were all beautiful, too. How could they not be? And she loved their names, she recited them a few times in her head so that she could try and remember them. She couldn't wait to see them—see which ones looked like Sia and which ones looked like his mate. And four weeks meant they might be able to come out of the den a little; only for a little while, she knew, but she would love to get to see them play and learn. She was so lost in the moment and in the excitement of meeting Sia's children that she wasn't being her normal, intuitive self. She missed his intake of breath at the mention of Nanook, and she missed the desolation in his eyes as he cast a glance to the cloudy sky. She hadn't missed him stopping, and she had stopped with him, her gaze questioning as she finally took in his features. He was silent for some time, and dread began to spread icy fingers through her chest. She just stared at him, waiting for him to form the words to tell her whatever he needed to say.

And then the words he offered stole her ability to breath for a few seconds. The rain began to beat around them and then he was sobbing, and it all clicked. She knew this grief to some extent, and it resurfaced in the moments that she stood there, frozen as he sobbed. She and Stigmata hadn't even been mates but his death had taken a piece of her soul and left a darkness in its place. Tears formed in her own eyes and she moved forward to wrap around him. Sia, I'm so sorry, was all she managed to say. She didn't ask how it had happened or any of the other questions that might seem appropriate right then; she seemed to sense that he wouldn't be able to answer anyway. All she could do was offer him an embrace and grieve with him the way a loved one would. She would stay there too, the rain soaking their thick, snowy coats, for as long as he needed her comfort.